


Off The Record

by 1975reasons



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Co-workers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Journalism, Matty's Hair, Music, Secret Relationship, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sexual Content, Shit that comes out of my brain at 1:02 in the morning, The 1975 (Album), Touring, United Kingdom, Whatever I can tag to get people to read this shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1975reasons/pseuds/1975reasons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was one of those people - the ones that catch your eye the first time you ever walk into a room. He was attractive in an eccentric way. He inevitably caught her eye.</p><p>She was American. Hired for the tour, to write a book about the band. Her nose ring, the way she carried herself, they told it all. She caught his eye too. </p><p>What caught management's eye? A possible publicity disaster. So, they try to keep them apart.</p><p>There's so much that goes on off the record...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1

Here I am. Fresh out of College, 22, with a nose ring I refuse to remove and a tattoo I got at 16. Here I am. 

I pinch myself. I feel like I'm dreaming. After weeks of applying and applying to mediocre,   _Work for Dummies_  jobs, receiving less interviews and exactly  _zero_  offers of employment, here I am. It's funny how one, "might as well," can change your life so quickly. 

This is me. Rose-Marie Arrington, alumna of Northwestern University who dyed her hair purple once on a whim. And I got the job. I got my  _dream job,_ to be exact.

And so here I am, in the middle of Liverpool, England, lost, slightly chilly, and in awe. I tie my double-button coat tighter around my waist and continue walking down the street, still searching for Motor Museum Recording Studio.

It's a funny story, how it happened. You see, I just graduated with my Bachelor's in Journalism. But, since I have one too many piercings, I wasn't a strong candidate for any of the jobs I applied for. (Spoiler alert: One too many piercings is one. One piercing.) I couldn't even get hired as a word-processor in a shady law firm in Inner-City Chicago. So, one day, I saw this posting online for a Music Journalist, and I thought, "Might as well. It's only another job I won't get, but I can brag about how qualified I am at the bar." 

Spoiler alert: _I got the damn job._

After two Skype interviews, three sample articles, and a very long phone conversation with a very British man, here I am in England. 

I find the studio, finally, and enter. 

"Can I help you?" says the woman sitting at the desk in the lobby.

"Yeah, actually, I'm supposed to meet with Mr. Oborne at 10:15," I say, looking at my watch. It's ten after.

"Okay. Right this way," she says, getting up and gesturing me to follow her. "He's been excited for your arrival."

I smooth my skirt out and follow her. I haven't stopped since boarding in Chicago what seems like ages ago. I got off and went straight to my apartment, dropped off my luggage, and got on a train to Liverpool. Then I got off, and rushed down here to meet my new boss. I want a nap and a doughnut.

As we walk into the room, everyone around the odd-shaped table comes to attention. The bandmates take their feet off of the tabletop, Mr. Oborne ends his phone call, and they all turn and look at me.

"Mr. Oborne, Ms. Arrington is here," says the secretary.

"I can see that Catherine, thank you," he says to her and she turns to leave the room. He turns to me. "Ms. Arrington, how was your flight?" he asks.

"Please, Rose is fine. And the flight was long, but very lovely, thanks for asking," I said.

"Great. Guys, I'd like you to meet Rose, she's going to be your new Journalist for the band. She will go with you  _everywhere._  The shows, the store, hell, she'll be at your house sometimes, just observing so she can write your stories. I can't tell you how important it is that you learn to like - no,  _love_ \- her. Any questions?" He says to the band. 

"Not for you," one of they guys says to Mr. Oborne. 

"Okay. Well, Rose, this is Adam, Ross, George, and Matt. They play Guitar, Bass, Drums, and Lead respectively. We want you to know them better than you know yourself. Learn everything about them; learn their favorite colors, coffee, shirt, tv show, alcohol, illegal drug, sex position. Learn about their past, learn about their present, and their future. Don't stop until every thought in your  head is about the 1975."

That isn't going to be hard judging by the impeccable eye candy that is Matt. 

"Okay," I say.

"Well, you guys get to know each other and have a good time, yeah?" He says, leaving us together. 

I sat in awkward silence. Matt broke it.

"What do you want to know love?" He asks. "We're pretty scandalous."

"Yeah," Adam says, "Drugs and sex and rock'n'roll. You know the drill," he laughs. 

I pull out my notebook. "Let's start with some favorite things, I guess," I say to them. "Food, books, drinks, run-of-the-mill stuff." We sit for two hours, recounting favorite memories, foods, drinks, books, movies, you know the stuff. I'm getting tired, so I say goodbye to the guys, we exchange numbers, and I take the train back to Manchester. The jet lag is killing me. I lay down and send the boys a text.

 

**Thx for a great session today. See you soon! Can't wait to get on the road with you guys. xxRose**

 

George texts back almost immediately.

 

**Matty thinks you're hot xx**

 

I reply.

 

**Matt's not too bad himself. xxRose**

 

I roll over and fall asleep, only to wake to my phone ringing a couple of hours later. It's Matt. I answer.

"Hello," I say, groggy. 

"Hey, American journalist," Matt says. "Have you experienced any brilliant English culture yet?" he asks.

"Matt," I say, "I've been here for seven hours total. I was with you for two of them, on the train for two, in the airport for one, and, sleeping for the rest. I haven't even unpacked the flat yet!"

"Well, you sleep some more, Jet Lag, and we'll go out tonight. You, me, and the boys. Deal?" he asks.

"Fine," I say reluctantly. "But you better buy my drinks. And it can't be before 7. No, 8."

"See you at 8." I hear the phone click. 

I roll my eyes and turn over, digging my head deeper into the pillow. 

 

My alarm goes off too soon. I am still exhausted from flying, but I figure I better go if I want to do my job well. I eventually pull myself out of bed and slipped into a tight, one-sleeve dress. I curl my long, ombre hair, pull it up and fix my makeup. Just as I am grabbing my heels and pulling them on, I hear knocking. I open my apartment door to find a lonely Matt outside. 

"Hey," I ask. "Where are the other guys?"

"They chickened," Matt says. "Said they didn't feel like getting wasted on a Tuesday. I told 'em they didn't know what they were missing."

"Well, I guess we'll have to shoot tequila on our own," I smile and say. 

"You're exactly right," He says, extending his elbow to me. "But I have to culturally educate you first. Let's go, m'lady." 

I wrap my hand around the inside of his arm and shut the flat door behind me. We walk down to the carpark (that's British for parking garage) and I have to stop and gawk at his car. It's a beautiful, Corvette z06 in midnight blue. I almost faint at the sight. 

"I love your car," I say, slightly excited as I climb in. "I've always wanted one."

"A Corvette?" He asks. "I pegged you for more of a Camero girl."

"Well, yeah. Either or, actually. I am so American, I know," I say, poking fun at his accent.

He revs up the car and backs out, speeding down the ramps with the windows down. The air is still chilly, but I don't mind so much, since I'm having fun. We drive around Manchester for hours, Matt explaining all the history and sharing memories with me. After a while of destination-less driving, I hear my stomach start demanding food. I haven't eaten all day. 

"So what does food look like around here?" I ask Matt, hinting at the fact that I'm hungry and hoping he catches on.

"Oh,  _brilliant._ I know this little dive, we should go. You hungry?" he asks, grinning.

"Definitely."

We arrive at this tiny little place way off the freeway, almost in a sketchy part of town. I'm nervous, but soon I find out just how right Matt was. It was  _delicious._ I have the best Alfredo I've ever eaten in my life. While we're sitting, making casual conversation, a question pops into my brain, and it came out of my mouth before I thought.

"So, where do you live?" I ask, then pause, and say, "Not to make this weird or anything. I'm just curious." I pop a fry in my mouth (they call them chips here) and realize I probably just made it worse.

"Oh, no worries. I actually live here in Manchester," he states. "Only about five blocks from your flat building, in Premier." I nod.

"What room number? 303 maybe?" I ask.

"Mmmhm. How did you know?"

"You outbid me on that apartment," I exclaim. 

"No way."

"Yeah."

"I don't believe you."

"Then how did I know the number?"

"You could have asked George."

"Nope. Check my phone," I say, throwing it across the table.

"No need, I believe you." 

"It's okay. I have an adequate place now. It's small, but it does the job."

He sticks a french fry in his mouth. "Well, you can always hang at mine," he offers. "I figure you'll be spending quite the amount of time there anyway, at least according to Jaime."

I laughed, imitating Mr. Oborne. "Learn everything about them. Favorite color, drink, illegal drug -" Matt joins me for the last one. "-and sex position!" We burst into laughing fits and draw some attention.

"You want to go drink?" he asks. I nod, since I'm having a good time anyway. 

"Might as well," I say. 

Those three words never cease to bring adventure. 

 

We go out to this little bar Matt knows really well. He orders us three rounds of tequila, and we shoot it together. We start dancing and we don't stop for an hour straight. By the end of the night, I'm pretty buzzed and not ready to leave, but we do. I feel like I've gotten to know so much about Matt tonight. When he drops me off at my apartment, he walks down to my door.

"Thanks for culturally educating me, Matt," I say. "I had a lot of fun for my first night in England."

"Glad I did my part," he replies. He grabs my hand and locks his fingers between mine. 

"Are you gonna kiss me?" I ask. Yeah, I'm sort of drunk.

"Don't rush," he says. "Anyway, a posh, sophisticated man like me wouldn't tell before he kissed." 

I laugh, mostly at the way he says "posh," because his button up is halfway buttoned and I can see most of his chest. Not to mention the mess of hair atop his head, all tangled with curls and pushed to one side. "Okay," I say. I pull my hand out of his and unlock my flat. As I take my shoes off inside, I hear him knock. "What?" I answer.

"You forgot something," he says, grabbing my face and forcing our lips together. When he finally pulls away, I smile at him. "Goodnight," He says, winking.

"Goodnight, Matt," I say while he makes his way to the front door.

"Call me Matty!" He shouts from the end of the hall.

And I will. 

 

 


	2. Ch. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the first real fanfic I'm writing, so please feel free to send feedback. Ideas, opinions, Idc. I just want it to be good! :) xxKay

I wake up in the morning with a slight hangover. My head is hammering with each buzz of the alarm. I sit up and force my eyes open, only to fall back into the reality of my dilapidated apartment, which is still covered in boxes of my belongings.  _I really need to unpack this shit,_ I think. Then last night creeps into my memory. The car, the pub, the kiss. I smile, drag myself out of the bed and turn on the shower water. I stand under the hot tap and rub my hands over my face, trying to soothe my throbbing migraine. I smile again, realizing I get to see the guys again today. After I exit the shower, I throw on my clothes. A black, professional but fashionable dress, a blazer, and sensible flats. Although I had a lot of fun last night, those heels did a number on my toes. I tie my hair in a high ponytail, add some makeup, grab my bag, and leave the apartment for the day. 

The boys have a press conference today at three. I'm supposed to be there, recording every minuscule piece of information they unveil, although Mr. Oborne could just tell me and save me the time. I don't mind though, for it means I get to see Matty again. I have a feeling he is going to quickly assert himself as my favorite aspect of the job. 

The train ride to Liverpool seems so much longer than it is. Minutes pass by like hours, until finally, I'm off the damn thing. My head is still aching, so I pop a couple of Advil in my mouth as I enter the double doors of Motor Museum. I get here, only to find out that one of the wardrobe people has taken off sick, so Mr. Oborne deems me part of the four-person team, promising a supplement that would make my check one and one half times bigger. So, instead of being a proactive, wonderful journalist for the day, I get to play dressup with a bandmate  _and_ attempt to be a semi-productive journalist. He must trust me, because I don't know if I can pull it off. 

I start running around like a chicken missing its head, on the verge of a panic attack. I don't know who I'm dressing, what to dress them in, or what they like, so I make small talk with Ross's stylist, Monique, for a minute, asking her questions. After that, I go back to the conference room where I was yesterday with the other stylists and wait for further direction. When Max, the head stylist, finally gets here, he starts barking orders. Monique with Ross, Chevelle with Adam, I am with George, and Zander took Matty. I hustle upstairs to wardrobe and find his dressing room, only to discover it empty. When he finally surfaces, I'm rushing. I have two hours to prep him for the press conference, since it won't be happening here. I pick out three shirts for George to choose from, only to be interrupted by Zander.

"Matty wants you," he says.

"Can you tell Matty I don't have time-"

"No, Matty wants you to dress him. He's demanding it," Zander says. "I'll take George, you go," he orders, gesturing me out with his hand. George winks at me.

I run down the hall to Matty's dressing room and barge in without knocking.

"What is ever-so-important right now, Matthew?" I ask. He smiles.

"Good morning to you, too. May I offer you some shitty coffee, or maybe a stale doughnut?" He scratches the back of his head.

"No, thanks. We have to get you dressed," I say, realizing he's standing, in front of me, clad in only a tight pair of black jeans. There is a skinny, _sexy,_ singer in front of me and I can only focus on his jeans. They have a hole in the knee. "Take those damn things off," I say. "Let's see, put these on," I demand, throwing another black pair at him. He laughs.

"It won't make a difference. These have a hole too. I own eleven pairs of the same jeans." I have to laugh at him. I take the jeans and hang them back up. "You know," he says, "I've been thinking about last night."

I inhale sharply. This could be good, or this could be bad. "Mmmhm," I nod, handing him a black button-up. He pulls it on and starts buttoning it.

"I kissed you, and I was a little drunk, and judging by those sunglasses perched on your head, so were you." 

"Go on," I say. adjusting his collar. 

"I just don't know how you feel about it. Like, did it bother you that we were drunk?"

"Why?" I ask. "Did it bother you?" I smooth out a wrinkle on his shirt pocket.

"A little. I just don't want  _those_ feelings getting in the way of any real ones." He turns around to face me.

I look him in the eye. "Well, why don't you clear that up right now, then?" I say. He cocks an eyebrow at me and cracks a grin.

Before I know it, we're kissing. Not like last night. Not spontaneous, not rushed, not drunk and tasting of vodka and lime. It's exploratory, interesting. A real, unimpaired kiss. Matty's lips were slightly parted, allowing my bottom lip to fit perfectly between them. Things go from unsure to positive and Matty picks me up and pushes me against the wall, kissing my neck. As much as I want him to continue, I have to stop him.

"Wait, wait, wait," I exhale. He stops and looks up at me, dropping me back to ground-level.

"What?" he says.

"We met each other yesterday. Is this really such a good idea?" I ask as he puts his hands on my waist and smiles sadly.

"You're right," he sighs. 

"Sorry," I say. "It's just that I'm into you, and I don't want to mess it up by moving too fast." 

"Twenty-four hours is a little fast, isn't it?" 

I smile at him. "Yeah. I'm supposed to be dressing you, not undressing you anyway." He laughs. 

"Let me take you out to dinner tonight then," he says. "I know some nice places back in town."

I shake my head. "I can't. I have to unpack the flat. I don't have living room furniture until I pull it out and put it together, and all my clothes are in boxes and impossible to find. Not to mention, it's kind of hard sleeping on a mattress with no frame." 

"Well, then, I'll come over and help you. We'll order pizza, or takeout, or something. I'll bring Adam to help too. Cool?" he asks. 

I nodded, smiling at him. "Cool. Now, finish getting dressed. We only have... 45 minutes before you have to be on a bus across town." I shot a smile at him and left the room, shutting the door behind me. 

 

The press conference comes and goes. Mr. Oborne congratulates me on a fantastic job. They boys announce their tour. When it's over, I go back to my apartment and change into jeans and a thermal. I hear Matt and Adam in the hallway, so I go unlock the door and put on some music on Pandora. I set it to Quick-Mix, so there's no telling what starts playing. Matty and Adam come in, carrying a large box of something. It doesn't take me long to figure out what it is. 

"Why do you have such the selection of high-dollar alcohol Matt?" I ask. Adam nudges him.

"Matty has decided that you need a housewarming present. What better way to make your apartment home than by stocking it full of liquor?" They start pulling bottles out of the box and stocking my cabinet.   
"As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm, boys, I'm not a lonely drinker," I say, trying to take the bottle of rum out of Matt's hands. He stops me. 

"Ah, see, here's the kicker. If I stock your cabinets with this lovely, expensive, delicious booze, you will have all of my favorites. That way, when I run out, I can come over here and mooch off of you. Therefore, I have booze, and you have a buddy to drink booze with." 

"Oh. So the gift isn't for me. It's for you?' I say, smirking. I wouldn't mind Matty mooching liquor off me, just as long as he stayed to drink it. 

"Yeah," he says, finally emptying the box. "But I can't drink in a dump like this. Well, yeah I could. But, I don't want to. Let's fix it." 

Adam, Matty, and I spend four hours unloading and assembling furniture and decorations. I finally find my hangers, so I get to put my clothes in an actual closet, where they belong. I end up in the living room, watching Adam try to put together my couch. It's rather funny, actually. Matty comes in from the kitchen, holding a glass half full of amaretto. I let out a scoff. 

"What?" He smiles.

"Amaretto. You. Adam trying to put together my furniture." 

"What about it?" He asks.

"It's nice. I didn't realize I'd make such fast friends here," I say. leaning back on the wall. I take a sip of my drink.

"You need help, Adam?" Matty asks, laughing at the way Adam is trying to force two pieces together. 

"I'll get it," He huffs, frustrated. 

"I could use some help getting my mattress up on the frame," I say. Matty nods and follows me into the bedroom. He gets on one end, I get on the other, and we lift the mattress onto the oak frame almost seamlessly. I flop down on the mattress, arms spread out. Matty follows, our heads a foot apart.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"What? A guy can't lay a foot away from a girl without question? What is this world coming to?" 

I laugh at him. "You know, I like you Matt."

"Like I said, call me Matty." He rolls over and pecks me on the nose. "Let's go see if Adam ever got that sofa together." 

We get up and walk into the living room. Just as we enter, our phones ring simultaneously. It's Mr. Oborne, on conference call.

"Just pick up your phone," Matty tells me. "Put it on speaker." I do as he says.

"Hello? This is Rose." 

"Hey, Rose, I was trying to get you on conference with the other guys, but it seems Matty and Adam aren't answering."

"Oh, they're here with me Mr. Oborne. We're putting together my living room furniture." Matty and Adam both greet Mr. Oborne to let him know they are listening.

"Okay, Hey. Listen guys. I need you to come in bright and early tomorrow. Let's say nine, okay? We have some publicity matters to discuss." We all mutter something along the lines of "okay," and he hangs up.

"Jesus. It's eleven thirty. I'm not going to get any sleep at this point," Adam complains, still trying to force my couch together.

"Here. I'll help," I say. "You guys helped me out a lot. Why don't you stay? I'll sleep on the loveseat, and you two can fight among yourselves over who gets the sofa and who gets the bed."

After we get the sofa put together, I change into my pajamas and grab a couple of blankets.

"It's decided," Matty sighs. "I will be sleeping on the couch, while Adam, queen of England, and drama, sleeps in your bed." I smiled. 

"Great." I wanted Matty closer to me anyway. I knew I couldn't get too involved too quickly, but he was comforting nonetheless. 

"I can't wait to see what happens," Matty swoons, winking at me. 

Neither can I.

"


	3. Ch. 3

_"Rosie. Rose! Rose-Marie, you damn well better look at me."_

I tremble at the words. 

_Rose-Marie, you lazy bitch! You look at me right now. I'm not fucking playing._

_I better see those dishes done. I'm not playing Rosie. Don't fucking look at anything until you get those dishes done._

I see his hand reach out to strike me, and I panic. 

 

"Rose! Rose!" I hear, jolting awake and falling off the loveseat, tangled in blankets. Matty stands over me, extending his hand. 

"Oh, God, Matt. I'm sorry. I woke you up, didn't I?" I ask. 

"No, no," he says. "I can't sleep. I suffer from persistent bouts of insomnia. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a dream," I say, not only to assure him, but to assure myself. I repeat the words in my head.

_Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream._

"Okay."

"What time is it?" I ask. Matty looks at his watch lying on the end table.

"Uhmmm, four-thirty."

I sigh, rolling my eyes and looking at the end table. "Well, there goes all hope of getting any more sleep. I may as well get up," I say, grabbing Matt's hand so I can stand. I realize what he's dressed in: a pair of boxer shorts. Nothing else. I feel my face prickle from the heat of a blush. He notices and grabs his jeans.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't pack for a slumber party." 

"'S fine," I say, turning my head away from him as he slips them on. "I would have went out and bought nicer pajamas if I knew I'd soon be in the company of a man." 

He laughs. "So, what do you feel up to do at four-thirty in the morning?" 

"I'm going to go up to the roof," I say. "I just need to think. The air helps."

"I'll come too," he says, slipping on his jacket.

We take the elevator up to the eighth floor, where we could get onto the roof. I swing the door open and place my bare feet on the cold concrete. The city never stops. It's nice. It reminds me of home, of Chicago. 

"Whatt're you thinking about?" Matty asks. "You're smiling."

"Chicago." 

"I've been round once. 'S nice," he says, putting his arm around me. "You okay about that dream? You can talk to me about it." 

I sigh. "Matty, I can't let you get into that yet. I have demons I need not share at this stage in our relationship."

"Our relationship?" He grins. 

"Friendship," I quickly correct.

He elbows me playfully, hands in his pockets. "You said it," he says in a singsong-y voice. I roll my eyes and stuff my hands in my coat pockets. The worst part is I want to tell him. I want to divulge and let him know what went on. But, we only met a few days ago, and I can't just fall in love with a boy I don't know. I've been hurt, and I thought I'd been in love, but if this is what love feels like, then I am inexperienced on subject matter. Every time I see him, I am happy. I want to dive both feet in. I want to so bad it physically  _hurts._ But, I can't. I turn away from Matt, feeling the tears starting to well in my eyes.  He comes to me, puts his arm around me, and brushes my hair behind my ear. "Love, what's wrong?" he asks.

"I want this so bad it hurts. I want nothing more than to be with you," I say. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" He nods. "I don't know if this feeling I have, this feeling in my stomach I get every time you're here is love, but I've never felt like it before. I like the feeling, but it's so  _new._ So unbottled. I feel like it's in my veins. It's rushing through every inch of my body, causing me to pulsate." I stopped and choked down a sob. "I'm so damaged Matty. You don't even know. You don't want a girl like me. I'm so, so-"

"Human," he finishes. "We all have ghosts. We all have a past. You don't have to let it dictate your life, you know. You can be happy with me. I promise. You know that feeling you were talking about?" he asks and holds my face, forcing me to look at him in his deep, beautiful, pained eyes. "I know that feeling. I get that feeling too. I want you to be careful with your heart. I want you to be sensible. I know it's hard. I do. But if we're even thinking about a relationship, we need to start with trust and respect. I can't love you until you love yourself, darling." He kisses my forehead and pulls me into a hug. I sob on his shoulder. I cry until I stop producing tears and start to breath again. He lifts my face back to his. "Wipe your eyes. Please. It kills me to see you so upset. Talk to me, baby. Talk to me." 

And I do. I tell him about my dad. I tell him about growing up in Kentucky, how terrible it was. I tell him why I moved to Chicago, and then to the UK. For a few minutes, I forget that I've only known him three days. It seems like it's been  a lifetime. 

"It was terrible. He made me do all the housework, yard work, my homework, and care for Ducky. If I didn't, he'd hit me. I'd have to find ways to cover up the bruises, to hide the scars from the cigarette burns. Teachers noticed when I came in black and blue. I was in foster care for two years. Then, they just gave me back, and things went back to the same." 

We sit on the edge of the roof letting our legs dangle as we talk. We talk for two hours about my life before. He never stops me, he never tells me to shut up. He holds me when the tears come, and comforts me even when they don't. 

"You know, I've never told anyone that before," I say. "Not even my roommates at Northwestern." 

"It's okay. I understand," He says in a soothing voice.

When we finally decide to go back downstairs, it's a quarter to seven. We have to wake Adam up so I can get dressed and ride with them to Matty's apartment. I quickly slip on some clothes and apply some makeup, then we leave. Matty's apartment is exactly how I remember seeing it on the website: beautiful. I sit at the bar, stirring an ice cube into my coffee while he gets dressed and lends Adam some clothes. We drive to Liverpool and end up at Motor fifteen minutes early by some fantastic miracle.  We enter together, debating the "Late Great" musicians. Adam names the Beatles, I name Johnny Cash, they scoff. Matty names The Doors, I name Freddie Mercury, we nod in agreement. This continues until we walk into the conference room, and are suddenly stopped by the sight of two new faces. 

"Hello, please sit down," the woman says. "We have much to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does everyone like it? I know this chapter was shorter than the first two, but I've got a thing in the morning and I'm tired. Anyway, I thought I liked this chapter. You? xxKay


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to jubilantfray, my first comment. :) Super sweet and awesome!   
> It's now TG break so I'll have some time to update. Expect big things, people!   
> xxKay

I shoot a nervous smile at the pair as the woman motions for us to sit down. She looks like a blonde Judy Dench who hasn't had her roots done for quite some time. The man, much taller, is Fred Flintstone in a suit. His features are round and large, and he towers over everyone in the room by at least four inches. His hair is spilling everywhere in chaotic, voluminous curls and his inflamed, ruddy face makes it blatantly obvious that he indulges in the bottle a little too often.

We file in and sit down, me between Matty and Adam. Matty immediately  places his feet on the conference table, crossing his ankles. The blonde woman shoots him a piercing look of discontent. He sighs with scorn and removes his feet from the mahogany surface. Mr. Oborne walks into the room, placing his hand gently on my shoulder as he makes his way to the front of the room.

"Thank you for coming, everyone," the woman abruptly starts, catching us all off guard. "I can't thank you enough, on behalf of the company, for letting us help represent _The 1975_ 's image." I look to Matty, who is rolling his eyes. "We want you to know just how important public eye will be to your success. You cannot be a successful band unless you play to the whim of public appeal. I am an expert in public relations, and I know exactly what you need to become a band worth a world tour."

Matty hitches a laugh. 

"Is there a  _problem_ , Mr. Healy?" The woman snaps in his direction. He shakes his head, playing with his thumbs.

"No, no, go on, please."

The woman smooths her skirt with a triumphant look gleaming on her face. "Thank you. Now, show business is serious stuff. You will always have people who aren't happy with what you're doing. Our goal is to keep that number to a minimum. Our job is to save face. We want you to be the hottest, most appealing band on the planet. Therefore, any problem, decision, statement you make that would concern your publicity MUST be approved by us first," she says, motioning towards herself and her Neanderthal counterpart. She picks up a stack of binders and distributes them across the table. "These are the handbooks. They cover every topic imaginable, starting with A and ending at Z. Our objective for today is to teach you the regulations you must follow to maximize success and acceptance rates." Rather than speaking in words, the woman seemed to be speaking in numbers, goals, and statistics.

She goes on for fifteen minutes before we even start with A. A is for alcohol, amphetamines, attitude, autographs. B. Bandmates. C for cancellations, contact, courtesy, the list goes on. We get a break around M, and Matty and I walk to the cafe. He wraps his hand around mine, looking at me and smiling. I look at him sheepishly.  Mr. Oborne is walking behind us and taps Matty on the shoulder. "You might want to hold off on that," he says, almost making it sound like a warning. Matty looks at him with a hurt look on his face.

"Is there a problem with this?" Matty asks. Mr. Oborne sighs.

"Yes, and no. I just don't know how the PR officers will take it." 

"Officers? Jaime, they have nothing over you."

"Yes, Matt, they do. You don't understand the way music business works." 

"Whatever. I'm going to the studio. Come get me when this is over." He untangles our hands and walks off. I look at Mr. Oborne, not knowing what to do, and then I follow Matty, running to catch up. 

"Matty! Wait," I yell, finally catching up to him. "What are you going to do about the meeting?"

"Fuck the meeting." He turns sharply down the hallway and I follow him into a room at the end of the hall. The walls are a warm burgundy color, trimmed with dark cherry wood. I know immediately this must be the studio, as I can see the soundbooth throug h the window. He walks to the wall, pushes his head into it, and screams. 

"UGHH! I CAN'T, I CAN'T I FUCKING CAN'T DO THIS!" He continues screaming, and I walk over to console him. He hits the wall with force as I run my hand across his thin shoulders. 

"It's okay," I say, trying to quell him.

"It's okay? It's okay! No, it's fucking not okay, Rose-Marie. I want to sing. I want to be an artist. I don't want to be a fucking piece of some game to some "public appeal specialist," who gets her kicks off running a band like a business. Jaime hired you for a reason, you know? To tell our _REAL_ story. Not some shit the blonde bitch back upstairs made up! I started music to be myself, to be real. I don't want to end up a pawn in a chess tournament, only travelling in one direction, wasting my time on a game that I might not win anyway. If I'm going to do it, I want to do it right. This isn't right. For fuck's sake, Jaime's totally let her whip him. He's a pawn, just like us, and she's playing us to her greatest advantage. After that, the game's up, and we go back in a box, only to be left to collect dust and do a reunion tour in fifteen years. I'm not okay with that. Hell, would you be?" He had turned to face me, and I look up at his eyes, welling with tears. He runs his hands through his now matted hair, pulling and tugging with distress.   


I couldn't help myself. I had to kiss him. 

I kiss him, cupping his frail face with my hands. He kisses back, walking me towards the wall and pinning me there. For someone so thin, he is rather strong, and it catches me off guard. I let him lift me up, making me as tall as he is and easing the process. We finally pull apart, and he looks at me questioningly.

"Why did you do that?" he asks.

"You look really beautiful when you cry," I answer. It's the best reason I can come up with. 

He goes right back to kissing me, his lips travelling down my jawline and neck, across my collarbone. The way his mouth gently, but desperately, travels along my chest sends cold chills down my spine. 

"Matty, Matty," I manage to sigh out, trying to get him to stop. "Matty, you can't..." He brings his face back up to mine.

"Please, let me." 

I can't resist the way he speaks, barely able to push out the words due to lust. It's all it takes to push me over the edge. He locks the door, comes back to me, and picks up where he left off. His hands hug my hips as my shirt untucks itself from my skirt. I let my heels fall off of my feet and they clatter to the floor, not slowing Matty down for a minute. I claw at the hem of his shirt, exposing his lower back. He puts me down and starts unbuttoning my shirt as I struggle to get his belt off. 

As soon as I get the fastener off and start to pull his belt from his jeans, there's a knock at the door.

"Matt. Matt, you okay?' I hear Ross's voice from the other side of the door. Matt nearly drops me, putting me back on the floor gently. 

" _Shit,_ " he mutters, threading his belt back through the loops on his jeans. I start trying to recompose myself and Ross unlocks the door.

"Matt, I don't think Jaime meant -- Oh," he stops mid-sentence when he looks up and see me, jamming my shirt back into the waist of my skirt. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

"'S whatever," Matty says. "Tell Jaime I'll be back to the fucking meeting in  a second... But nothing of this," he says, motioning at the shoes and shirt on the floor. Ross nods and leaves the room, and Matty shuts the door behind him.

"Look," he says. "Sorry about that. I lost my cool. I shouldn't have," he says.

"No, it's fine, really," I reply. "I didn't mind." I smile at him. "Let's just get back there so we can listen to the rest of the shit this woman has for us while her friend sits off his hangover."

We walk back to the meeting room in silence, not holding hands. We walk back in, ready for L-Z.

"Great to have you back, Matthew," the woman says, not even acknowledging the fact that I was even gone. "Now that we have everyone, we're going to skip ahead a little bit. Let's go to.... R.  _Relationships._ " 

My eyes shift to Matt, a look of terror spreading across my face. What the fuck?

"Our relationship policy is simple. No dating co-workers, no "controversial" relationships. We approve it or you don't do it. You're friends with the Style's boy from the other band, aren't you Matthew?"

He nods his head. 

"Ask him. The rules aren't fun. But they are there for your benefit. I have a separate appointment set up with you, Matt. We need to work closely if you are going to be the face of the band. Meet me here tomorrow at 9, not optional." He nods silently, looking past her and out the window at the city below us.

I know this won't turn out well.

We finally get to Z, and we're free to leave. We get on the train back to Manchester, and Matty is silent. He stares out the window, watching life around us fly by. 

"So, what about that meeting?" I ask him.

He looks at me and takes a minute to respond.

"Fuck the meeting," he says, and breaks into a grin.


	5. WARNING: SEX SCENE CHAPTER!

We get back to Manchester and get off the train. Matty grabs my hand.

"You wanna stay at my place tonight?" he asks.

"What?" I ask, smiling.

"Y'can stay at my apartment. Of course, it's me and George, but he's usually out. You want to?"

"Really?" I ask. "You don't think it's too soon?"

He scoffs. "Oh please. The day after I met you, you saw me nearly naked. I don't think it's too soon."

"Okay," I say softly. 

"Great."

We walk to his apartment in silence, holding hands and exchanging shy smiles. When we arrive, he unlocks the door. As soon as we get inside, he slams the door and presses his lips to mine intensely. A noise, presumably one of pleasure, escapes my throat. He hoists me up, pressing me against the flimsy wooden door, playing at the hem of my shirt. He runs his hand under my shirt to my waist. His skin is cold, and it sends cold chills down my spine. 

"Let's fuck," I whisper into his neck.

"You're very forward," He replies. "I like it." I start pulling his shirt up his back, feeling his skin ice mine. "You're so fucking hot," he says.

"I know. You're freezing."

"Not what I meant."

"What?"

"Fit."

"Oh."

I hear a subtle clearing of the throat coming from the kitchen bar. Matty, again, drops me, only to turn around and see George sitting there with a glass of scotch.

"Evenin'," he says. Matty pulls his shirt down awkwardly, turning a deep shade of crimson.

"Hey, I thought you were out," he says.

"Plans changed. Sorry to interrupt your-"

"'S fine," Matty says abruptly. "Just say something sooner next time."

"Oh, don't worry. I will. That made me nauseous," George says, poking fun at Matty and cracking a grin. Matty walks down the hall to his room, me tagging behind. He opens the door to reveal a classy, monochromatic room. The walls are a charcoal color, the bed spread black and white. The sleek, elegant dresser lines the wall opposite the bed. It is minimal but sleek. 

"Why is it that every time we're about to actually get somewhere, something happens? I can understand the first time or two but this is getting a little ridiculous."

"It's okay, Matty. We're here now, so why not  _Carpe Diem?_ " I push him back on the bed and straddle him, hiking my skirt up my thighs.

"I don't think that's very chivalrous of me, to fuck you when my best friend is meters away. I don't think George would appreciate it either." 

I moan at him. "Come  _on._ I can't take this!" I say, pushing my hips into his, creating friction. I hear  his breath catch as he shuts his eyes. 

"Mmmmmmnnnhhh... No, we can't." he says as he places his hands on my hips, trying to lift me off of him. 

"Ugh! You're no fun!" I roll off of him and bounce down on the bed face-up. I sigh dramatically.

He rolls over and brushes my hair out of my face. "I'm sorry, love," Matty says. He gives me a quick kiss on the lips and rolls onto his feet. "Let's watch a movie," He says, opening his dresser and rummaging through it. "Here, get out of those clothes. You  _have_ to be uncomfortable." He throws a shirt and a pair of boxer shorts at me. I laugh. "What?"

"You won't sleep with me but you're okay if I wear your underwear? For Christ's sake, Matty!" I turn around and unbutton my shirt, removing it from the hem of my skirt and then sliding that off as well. I pull his shirt on and feel his arms wrap around me from behind. "What are you doing?"

"You look really,  _really_ , sexy in that shirt." He kisses my neck and releases me. 

"Then why don't you take advantage of it?" I moan. "You keep teasing me!"

"Shut up and come pick a fuckin' movie."

He walks out of the room, smacking my ass as he goes. 

We end up watching "What's Eating Gilbert Grape." George resigns to his room mid-way through the movie. We finish the movie, and I'm in tears. I sob, my lips quivering and making them sound broken. Matty wrapped his arm around my shoulder tightly.

"You okay?" he asks, concerned.

"Y-yeah. It's just, he reminds me of Ducky, my brother. I think I mentioned him before, right?"

"Yeah."

"I used to take care of him like that, like Gilbert does."

"Who does it now?" he inquires.

"No one. He no longer retains the privilege of breath."

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, you couldn't have known," I sob.

We sit in silence for a while, me sobbing, Matty stroking my hair and hugging me tightly. 

"I promise I will never make you feel that kind of pain," he says after what seemed like hours of silence. 

"I hope," I manage to spit out. 

He gently grasps my face and turned it towards his.

"I promise," he says gently, then kisses me softly. The soft kisses slowly become more lustful. We end up horizontal, kissing like we had so many times before.

But this time, we follow through.

He carries me to his room, our mouths still pressed to each other in lust. Kicking the door shut behind us, he falls on top of me onto the bed. My shirt is already halfway up my waist. I pull his off and immediately feel his icy skin send electricity through mine. I pull him in by his shoulder blades, forcing his torso closer to mine. He lets out a labored breath on my neck, putting me more on edge. He grabs my wrists and brings them above my head. I shudder while he plants kisses down my neck, raising the hem of the shirt at a painfully slow speed. I sigh in discontent, and he speeds up in response. He brings himself back up to eye level, allowing me to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. 

"Mmmmmmpph," he moaned in delight, pushing the weight of his hips down on mine. I push down the waist of is jeans as he plays at the elastic of the boxers I'm wearing. After finally getting them down and throwing them across the room, Matty pulls his off and does the same. 

"Do you have something?" I ask in between heavy breaths.

"Yea. One second," he replies, reaching up to the nightstand and pulling open the drawer. He tears open the condom impatiently, ripping it in the process. "Fuck."

"Don't worry about it," I say, shaking my head. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, I'm not worried." As soon as the last word was out of my mouth, he was in me. He took me off guard, making me cry out.

"Shh babe."

"I'm --- t-trying!" He smashes his mouth into mine, silencing me. As he thrusts, he buries his head into the pillow to stifle his moan. I wrap my hands around him, unintentionally digging my nails into his shoulder blades. I bite his collarbone, causing him to shiver. I grab the sheets, bunching them up in a clenched fist.  _God, he was so fucking good._ It isn't long before we're both at the whim of the other. He sends me over the edge, then comes himself, not even bothering to stop himself from raising his voice.  _  
_

"Oh, fuck," he sighs, collapsing beside me after. "Why didn't we do that sooner?" He asks.

"Your fault," I say. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Everything this week."

"Don't mention it. Thank you."

"For what?" I ask.

"Letting me in your pants," he says, smiling.

I shove his shoulder. "Fuck you."

"You just did."

I hear the doorknob turn, sending me into a panic. I quickly pull the sheet up to my collarbone.

"Hey Matty, I'm just going to go out to- Oh," George said. "Damnit man! Can you not keep your clothes on?" he asked, putting his hand in front of his line of sight.

Matty laughs. "I'm getting more ass than you, mate."

"Alright, well, I'm going out. I'll call before I come home so you can have your clothes on.

"Aye, okay. Thanks," Matty says as George shuts the door. He laughs and kisses my forehead. "So much for not doing this while George is here." 

"Hey, I don't mind," I say. "I had a good time."

He scoffs. "You had a good time? You had a good time?!? You are the third girl I've ever slept with and you just had a good time? No fireworks or any of that shit?"

"Really? Only three? Impressive."

"Why? How many people have you smashed?" I laugh at the way he put it.

"Oh, only two, counting you, but I just figured you were a music man. You have so many fans you could go for. Why don't you?"

"Because I like to buy a girl dinner first," He says, kissing my forehead again. "But after that, anything goes." He smiles and snogs me again, starting the cycle all over.

It's gonna be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated. It's been a hard couple of weeks, but I'm back on track! So glad the Matty/Taylor drama is dying down.   
> xxKay

When we finally pull ourselves out of bed in the morning, I have Matty drive me back to my flat to change since it's raining. George decides to tag along and bug the shit out of us about last night. From the backseat of Matty's Corvette, he is asking all sorts of inappropriate - and personal - questions. 

"So, how was it?" "Did you bareback?" "Who was on top?" "How long did he last Rose?"

"Would you stuff it George? Jesus fucking Christ, man!" Matty finally exclaimed, quelling the ridiculous questions. "Don't answer those, Rose. Please." 

"Damn, who peed in your Cheerios mate?" George asks. 

"I just remembered I have that ridiculous meeting with that ridiculous woman today," he sighs. "Sorry mate. I didn't mean to get salty at you. But it was good, yeah I did, I was, and a good 20 minutes."

My jaw drops in disbelief. "You just told me not to answer that! What the hell dude?"

"Changed my mind," he says, smiling playfully and winking. 

We finally get to my apartment after long moments of awkward silence and George asking more questions I didn't want answered. I walk inside the complex, pull out my key, and unlock the door, shutting it firmly behind me. I start the water for a shower in the bathroom, letting it warm up while I fix the coffee brewer to be ready when I get out. I hear the door open and close in the front room as I am stepping in the shower.

"Whatever you need, it'll be a minute. I'm in the shower!" I yell. Matty comes in, strips down, and steps into the claw-footed tub with me, water trailing down his curls and onto his nose. "I don't have time right now, I have to get ready," I say to him, throwing warm water over my face. 

"Okay, grumpy," he replies. "I just figured I needed a shower too. I told George to take the car and we can ride the train..."

"Thank God for that. Maybe we can keep what happens in the bedroom between us next time?" I ask, agitated at the situation. I turn to pick up my shampoo and he stops me, bringing me around to face him again. He cups my face in his hands, water pooling at the base of them.

"Is that what's the matter?" he asks. "If you didn't want me to say, you could have told me love." I shook my head, forcing him to remove his hands.

"You didn't give me time." 

"I'm sorry. I really, truly am babe." 

"Can we be real for a minute?" I ask. He nods and prompts me. "I like you, okay? I like you a whole lot more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever  _loved_ anyone, even. But I can't go all in if you're half in. I can't do this 100% if you don't want me to, if you aren't serious, you know?" I wipe away the tears welling up in my eyes. 

His face drops, and he stutters to speak. "I-I babe, I'm serious. I don't know what would lead you to believe I'm not. I'm so fucking serious about this... You -" He cuts himself off, choking up and running his hands through his hair. I lay my head against his chest and sob. He pulls himself together, and lifts my face up to his. "I want to be with you. I'm serious as hell about this, okay? I like you too. A lot. I want to get invested in this. I want it so bad it hurts. Please, don't think I'm not serious." 

"Okay," I say, trying to stifle my sobs. "Okay." He runs his hand over my sopping hair. 

"Shhhh, baby. Shhh." He kisses my forehead, trying to calm me. "It's okay." 

"It's not okay," I say. "I'm so sorry I doubted anything. I'm so sorry." I pull away from him and resume my shower. "We have to catch the 7:30 train, okay? I have to finish my shower," I say, sniffling. 

"Let me help," he says. He grabs my pouf and gets some body wash lathered onto it. We get in and out in twenty five minutes. I dry my hair and pull it into a bun, throw on my clothes, and we walk out the door and head to the train station. We sit in silence for the majority of the ride, holding hands and stealing glances. I am more nervous about Matty's meeting than he is. We walk into Motor together, only to be pushed apart by some obnoxious blonde. She runs right into me, her oversize Michael Kors purse hitting me square in the face, since she's wearing six inch heels. 

"Watch where you're going, please!" she exclaims, turning around, stopping, scowling at me, and examining Matty. I step back into him and intertwine my fingers in his. She sighs and walks into the back hallway, headed to the conference room. I kiss Matty goodbye and head to my (new) office. Since Mr. Oborne finally got me a space, I haven't had time to move in. Finally having a minute to myself is pleasant. I sit down and start typing the first pages of the book I've started about the boys. About four pages in, Ross comes knocking down my door. 

"For Christ sakes, come in before you beat a hole in it!" I yell through the door. He enters my office. "What's up, Ross?" I say, still typing.

"I haven't had time to talk to you yet, Matty's been hogging you so much," he replies, sitting down and placing his feet on my desk and crossing his ankles. 

I push his feet off the edge of my desk. "Sorry," I say. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know, I was just free and figured you're here to get to know me, so do your job, woman!" I gave him a stern look. "Rose, sorry. Not woman. Rose." 

"Better," I say. "So, tell me about yourself then." 

He spends forty-five minutes telling me all about his life. From childhood to what he had for breakfast this morning. I am taking notes on his ridiculous explanation about fried eggs and Rice Krispies when Matt walks in, fuming. Tears of anger are welling in his eyes. 

"Ross," he says. "Out. Please." Ross puts his hands up, stands and walks out of my office, shutting the door behind him. 

"Darling, what's wrong?" I ask, coming around the desk. "Baby, tell me." He sits down in the chair, and I sit next to him and take his hand. He puts his other hand on his forehead, crying. 

"I'm a fucking pawn. I'm a pawn in this fucking game. I'm not okay. This is bullshit. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not when we started. No. And now I've become the knight. I'm only allowed to move a certain way. It's so confusing. I'm so done."

"Matty, what happened downstairs?" I ask. 

"I'm not allowed to date." he says. I gape. "Well, I'm allowed to date. Just no one except for the blonde. No one. Not you, not the boys' sisters, not Audrey fucking Hepburn if she came back and asked for my hand in marriage." I sigh, dropping his hand to rub my oncoming headache.

"Shit. Just when we got this worked out. Shit." He pushes his hair back as I sigh out an exasperated sentence. "Shit." It's all I can force out of my mouth. 

After what seems like years of silence, Matty speaks through the tears. "What do we do?"

"We see each other outside of the public eye," I say. "It's all I can do."

He sighs. "Okay."

"It'll make for one hell of a book," I say. He laughs, but not a happy Matty laugh. It's a nervous, broken laugh. It breaks my heart. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you saying that? It isn't your fault. I swear we'll work this out." He grasps my chin and kisses me. Not a fast, heated kiss. Not a sexy kiss. Not a rushed, misunderstood kiss. A real, slow, raw kiss. And then I know. I know, in that moment, that's it. 

I love him. 

I love him and I picked the worst time to realize it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This chapter's kind of longer, but I just was really inspired and had good ideas. I hope it makes up for the last one being shorter! Enjoy.  
> xxKay

**_Time jump - 3 weeks_ **

**_E-Diary Entry 1 - February 4th_ **

_I've decided to keep a log of feelings and such. I'm a little stressed out right now and I think that writing about it will help, so here I am. I'm sorry if I ramble, but you're just a blank space on a computer screen, so I guess it doesn't much matter to you, Huh? Anyway, the book about the boys is coming together well. In outline form, I mean. I've been writing articles and such, and even started a chapter about a month ago, but scratched it. I decided it should focus more on their tour and less on this drama. They are great, don't get me wrong, and I'd love to write about every ounce of life they live, but it just isn't what I want to project for them. They are great guys and deserve the sun and moon. I'm going to try deliver on the pages of this book._

_Matty and I have gotten things worked out for the time being. His publics official is terrible. He's now stage dating the blonde we ran into in the lobby, Gemma. It wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't so fucking terrible. He is in absolute suffering every time he has to be out with her. He comes back fuming about something all the time. Maybe it's something she said, maybe it's some new rouse they have to keep up. It tortures me to see him like this. He's been drinking a lot more according to the guys. Whenever he's over, he has a glass of something in his hand. We haven't been "together," since the first, and, well, only, time. I haven't told him about the "L" word either. I just don't know how he'll react. While one part of me thinks it could help, the other part is screaming a bad outcome. I don't know what to do. This job brought a lot more than I thought it would... Damn._

_xRose_

 

_Come on, try a little, nothing is forever, there's got to be something better than in the middle..._

I jump awake at the sound of my phone ringing. I look around at the walls of my dilapidated apartment, wondering what time it is and who would be calling me. I "slide to unlock," without looking and answer groggily.

"Hello, it's Rose?" 

"Rose, It's Adam."

"Hey, Adam, why are you calling me at..... 2:13 in the morning?"

"I need your help. It's Matty. He's wasted. Totally blown. And he's locked himself in the bathroom of this bar we were at, and he's refusing to come out. And I need you." 

I shoot out of bed. "Where are you at?" I ask, panicked. 

"Do you remember the bar you were at on your first night with him?" 

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I say and hang up. I don't bother to change out of my shorts and sweatshirt I wore to bed as pajamas. I lace my tennis shoes up, throw on my jacket, and bolt out the door, phone in one hand, keys in the other. The bar isn't too far from my apartment, but it's snowing, and I am in shorts, so I end up running, partly to keep warm, and partly to get to the bar before Matty has a complete meltdown. This city never completely sleeps, so I end up weaving in and out of the few people on the street and receiving some confused looks. "Excuse me! Sorry! Excuse me please!" 

I finally arrive at the bar and get to the back where the bathrooms are. Adam is sitting outside the door, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair. 

"Hey, finally. I don't know what to say to him. He's been sobbing and yelling on about this bar and you and his publics official... I can't get him to stop, let alone come out. He won't let anyone in," he tells, shrugging his shoulders and throwing his hands in defeat. 

"Hold this," I say to him and toss my keys and phone down at him. I knock on the washroom door lightly. "Matty? Matty, baby, it's Rose. Let me in, okay?" I hear him sniffle and stir. The lock clicks and I pull the door open to squeeze in. He is sitting on the floor, one knee raised, the other extended, shirt half off, with tears streaking his face, which is irritated and red. "Matty, baby, what's wrong?" I say, genuinely worried about him. I sit next to him on the floor and try to console him.

"I hate this, I hate it, I hate it so much Rose. You don't know how I hate this," He says, starting to sob again. I can smell his cologne mixing with the alcohol on his breath. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't been sick yet, considering the intoxication and the weeping.

"Matty, calm down, honey, okay. You can't talk to me until you calm down. It's okay. I swear it. I'm here, okay? Just calm down, and talk to me." I smile at him and wipe the tears off of  his cheek with my thumb.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a mess," he says. "I'm having such a hard time dealing with this. I-I-I love you, Rose, not her. I should be with you, not her. I want to make music, not play house!" He starts to cry, but holds back, his lip quivering.

Wait...

Did he say it?

He said it.

He loves me.

I look at him for a minute, letting his sentence sink in.

"What?" he asks. I just kiss him in response, brushing his wild curls out of the way of his face. Surprised at first, he finally starts to kiss me back, placing his hand on the back of my head and keeping me locked into it. I didn't mind. We finally pull apart, and he's smiling. Not a super happy Matty smile, but a slight smile, like he knows it's going to be okay. "You know exactly what I need, don't you? You're like my medicine."

I smile back at him. "I don't know about all of that," I say. "It was more for me than it was for you, actually." He pushes my shoulder playfully, then sits up, crossing his legs. He's wearing those damn jeans with the hole in the knee, and I huff. "Do you have any other jeans?" I ask. 

He smiles, picking at the fray above his kneecap. "Ten more pairs exactly like this one," he says. I put my hand on his to stop him from unraveling the fray. 

"You okay now babe?" 

He looks up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I don't know," he says. "But I'm better at least." 

"I don't think you're as drunk as Adam led me to believe, huh?" I ask. 

"Eh, I'm a little plastered," he said. "Can we go home?" 

"Yeah, babe, I'll have Adam take us back to my flat." I stand up, extend my arm to Matty, and help him off of the floor.

"Why are you wearing shorts in February, love?" he asks. 

I laugh. "Well, I wasn't exactly dressed to go clubbing when Adam called..."

"Ahhh." I smile at his response, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bathroom.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Okay, Matty  _was_ pretty drunk. I spent the rest of the night holding his hair over the toilet, bringing him water and restarting the process. I didn't get any sleep, and nor did he, so I called Adam and had him call us in sick for the day today. I finally got to sleep around 5 when he quit throwing up and was well enough to go to bed. I threw his clothes - minus his boxers - in the hamper, since they were covered in booze, tears, and vomit. I wake up around ten, half-sitting in bed, Matty's head propped up on my chest. I kiss his forehead and go into the kitchen looking for food. I decide to boil some eggs to help Matty's hangover, and also because I like boiled eggs. I pour us some grape juice, pop in some toast, and turn on the radio.  _  
_

_Tell me girl if every time we t-o-ouch, you get this kinda r-u-ush, baby say yea-ah-ahhh, yea-ah-ahhh, let me kiss you!_

I start dancing like an idiot because One Direction is my guilty pleasure. I stick a spoon full of peanut butter in my mouth and continue dancing while I screw the lid back on. I feel a pair of icy hands grab my hips where my tank top has ridden up, and they send a pulse through my body. 

"Hey, you left me in bed," he says into my ear from behind. 

"Did the wadio wake yeu ump? Schorry," I say, spoon still in my mouth.

"No, you left and I got lonely," he says. I turn around and pull the spoon out of my mouth. 

"Ahh. Well, I'm making breakfast," I say. "The toast is done, and the eggs are a minute out." 

"Thank you, love," he says. "How late are we going to be?" he asks, grabbing toast. 

"We're not, we're off today. I had Adam put us in sick."

"That's not going to look suspicious at all," he adds, sitting down at my worn-out table. 

"Who cares? It's not like they don't know that we date. Just as long as your publics official isn't there we're okay," I say, walking over to the radio and turning it down. "I'll wash your clothes after breakfast, and you should take a shower," I say. He nods in agreement. When the eggs get done, we eat over conversation about the tour, which starts in three months. The first date is in Glastonbury. 

"I'd love to see Glastonbury! You guys will get to see so many cool places on tour. How cool," I say. He laughs at me, mouth full of toast.

"You're too cute, you and your American accent." 

"Well, I'm just saying!" I exclaim. "I love living here, but I haven't been around the country as much as I'd like."

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you this until Monday at the studio, but..."

"What?" I ask.

"You're going with us. Mr. Obourne booked us a bus with an extra bed for you." 

"Really?" I ask, grinning yet in shock. 

"Yea," he says. "Even America." 

"Matty!" I yell, and run around to his side of the table to hug him around the neck. "Moving here's the best thing I've ever done! Oh, I love you!" 

He laughs at me and grabs my arm. "I love you too, Rose."

I kiss him regardless of the fact that I have just eaten two boiled eggs and he had spent the previous night vomiting in my toilet and we have yet to brush our teeth or shower, because I really do love him and now I don't have to carry it around like a secret. 

"Settle down, tiger," he says, pulling away after a bit and laughing. "I'm going to go take a shower, so why don't you go down the hall and start my clothes, and we can figure out what we're going to do for the rest of the day?" 

"Okay," I say, pecking him on the top of the head. I pick up the laundry hamper and haul it to the laundry room. (The perk about living on the bottom floor is no stairs.)

As I load the washer with Matty's dirty clothes from the previous night, I can't help but stop for a minute and let my life sink in. After I get the cycle started, I hop up on the washer and just sit for a minute, letting it run water as I just think. I smile at the ceiling, and say,

"I'm Rose Arrington and I'm in love with Matty Healy."

And it feels good.


	8. Warning: A little sex here too

When the clothes get done, I take them up the hall to my flat to find Matty fresh out of the shower. I toss him his still-warm jeans and he catches them in one hand, still drying his hair with the other. He slings the towel over the back of the kitchen chair and shimmies into his jeans. I head back to the bedroom to change into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. I brush my teeth and pull my hair up into a pony tail. I don't like it, so I let it back down. I stare at myself in the mirror for a minute.

"MATTY!"

"What babe?" He asks from the living room.

"C'mere! I need your help."

"What?" he says, leaning against the door frame.

"Cut my hair?" I ask.

"Why?"

"I just don't like it. Cut it?"

"Yeah, how much?" he asks. "I wasn't planning on running a salon today, but hell, why not?"

"Cut it to my shoulders. I can put layers in it, I just need someone to cut it all to give me a base."

He picks up the scissors and sighs out, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Matthew, please cut my damn hair. I'm tired of looking at it." 

Forty-five minutes and a small mountain of hair later, I decide I'm done chopping at my hair for the day. My once waist-length hair falls to my shoulders in a professional, yet adorable, cut. I walk into the living room and ask for Matty's final verdict.

"What do you think?" 

"You look hot," he responds, getting up from the couch. "C'mere."  We meet in between the kitchen and living room, and he picks me up.

"Let me down!" I squeal at him, my hands on his shoulders and kicking to get free. Since I'm in my sock feet, it's to no avail. He sets me down on the table, and I hear the wood creak. "I don't think it's safe for you to set me up here," I say. 

"Relax, it won't fall apart on you. You don't weigh as much as a-" The table gives out underneath me, legs falling in different directions. I yelp and land on the floor. "-feather..." Matty finishes. I start laughing hysterically and he picks me up, his hands supporting my weight under my thighs. "Please don't kill me," he asks, grinning.

"I couldn't if I wanted to, Matty," I say, playing with his hair and pecking him under his hairline. He sets me down and kisses my forehead in return. 

"I love you," he says, shaking his head. I smile. 

"You know, for a guy your build, you're pretty strong," I add.

"What, are you saying I look weak? You're going to get it now!" He yells chases me around the flat, trying to tickle me. I run into the bedroom and he corners me on the far side of the bed. My only option is to make a bee-line across the queen-size mattress, but he quickly stops me and pins me flat. His deviant smirk slowly fades and turns into an unreadable-but-sexy expression. Holding my wrists down on the barely-made bed, he leans down and kisses me on the neck. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, slightly relieved at his decision not to tickle me, but befuddled by his forwardness. "Matty- You've just been over being sick. I'm sure your head is still pounding. This isn't how you want to spend your day off, is it?" I ask, genuinely concerned. 

Matty replies, making his way down to my now-exposed collar bone. "Yes, it is, because I love you," he spit out in between kisses. Those three words make my insides heat up like a cigarette. He removes his lips from my shoulder and places them gently on mine. 

"Hey, you know what?" I whisper gently onto his mouth, my hand on his cheek, fingers gently grazing the skin. "I love you too." I turn my head and pick up the radio remote on the bedside table. I hit the play button for Pandora and what comes on cracks me up. He stops kissing me and lifts up, in awe. "Check it out," I say, smirking. He slowly starts to smile. 

_So this is how it starts..._

"You know, I did not write this song to literally have sex to, but let's try it," he offers. I giggle and kiss him, which leads to him kissing me back, which leads to my leggings coming off and then my shirt and then his jeans. He runs his fingers down my side, sending a chill up my spine. "Cold, or?" he asks. 

"Both," I say. "Your skin is always so cold, but Jesus God, everything you do is so sexy."

"I'm an atheist, you know," he says sarcastically, pulling the duvet over us and continuing on his quest to explore every inch of my collar bone with his mouth.

"Cheeky bastard," I breathe.

"You love it, don't lie," he pouts. "Now shhh."

"Make me," I dare him. In response, he smashes his lips into mine violently. I tug at his hair and use my weight to flip us over so I'm sitting on his lap. His abdomen connects with mine, and I shiver again, this time more from pleasure than chill. 

"Look at you, getting pushy and all, I like it," he says, still kissing me.

"Oh, stuff it and fuck me."

 After we're through, we lie in bed for a little bit, seeing what else the Pandora kicks up. My head is against his bare chest, and I can hear his heart beating, faster at first, and finally regulating. He puts a hand on my head. 

"You know, I like your hair like that, surprisingly," he says.

"Well, thank you. I was just so tired of the long hair, so tired of being the same person for so long. I'm different now, so why shouldn't I feel different?" 

"I understand. I totally get it. Everything's about the hair. It's all about the fucking hair," he says. I laugh. "What?"

"You do have quite the distinctive hairstyle, you know. I, myself, am rather fond of it, the curliness and the weirdness and all, and a lot of girls are like me."

"Trust me, Rose. No one on Earth is like you," he sighs. I smile. 

\- - - - - - - - -

We spend the rest of the day watching movies and casually having sex whenever we feel like it. We ordered takeout and ate in the living room floor since Matty broke my table. He swears he'll buy me a new one. When I wake up the next morning, I throw on a "business casual" dress and a blazer, only to find my entire collar covered in red, splotchy marks that Matty is responsible for. I groan and walk back to the bedroom. I stand over the bed and look at Matty, so peaceful and cute and asleep, and decide that my revenge is to wake him up very unpleasantly.

"Get up," I yell, throwing a pillow on his face. He lets out a muffled groan. "What time is it?" 

"7. You have to get up if we're going to make it to Liverpool by 9."

He sits up, letting the pillow fall onto his lap. The way he looks reminds me of  _The Walking Dead._ "MMk. I'm up."

"Look what you did," I say, pushing my chest out and moving my hair back. He squints in at it for a moment and backs off, eyes wide.

"Fuuuuuck," he mutters. "Does it hurt? Are you okay?" 

"No, I'm fine, babe. I just don't know how I'm going to cover seven hickeys." 

"Shit. I'm sorry. Do you have a scarf?" I look at him in awe. "What?"

"Okay. I've got a Bachelor's degree, from Northwestern, and I was the Salutatorian of my class, but you are the one that uses common sense and tells me to wear a scarf. I knew you were smart, Healy." 

He smiles at me. "I picked you, didn't I?" 

I shove the pillow into his chest and smile. "Get dressed goof. We've got work." 

When we get to the studio, Matty and I walk in together like we always do, kiss in the lobby, like we always do, and he goes straight while I turn towards my office. I always know when Gemma is here. I can feel her presence killing the good vibes I usually get when I'm working. Motor's a great place to work, but she just sucks the life out of everything happy. She's  _a model._ A very self-absorbed one at that. She's the type that puts on red heels to go to Tesco. I looked at her Instagram, believe me. Not into it.

As soon as I walk in , I begin preparing for a Matty-rant. I put tea on in the breakroom and have the store down the street deliver a dozen doughnuts, because where there is Matty, there is George, and Adam, and Ross. Then it's the waiting game. Let's see how much work I can accomplish before I have to deal with another stupid Gemma thing. today, I wrote two articles and drafted a third before he came in fuming, boys behind him. 

"Hey babe, I put on some tea. Also got doughnuts. What's up today?"

"Ughh. I'm not about this life!" He yells. George tiptoes around him and takes a raspberry filled doughnut out of the center of the box.

He goes on about Gemma and some new scheme the PR made up, and his shouting, combined with the extra bodies in the room, makes the temperature rise. I take off my scarf, forgetting about the seven hickeys Matty left me last night. Adam whistles loudly.

"Dayyyyyyum, looks like someone got it on!"

"Oh, fuck off Adam," I say, putting the scarf back on and turning to Matty. "Don't worry about the Gemma thing. I'll talk to Jaime about it in the morning, okay?"

"Okay, yeah," he says, finally calming down. "So, I'll see you tonight, yeah?" he asks.

"Why?" I reply, puzzled. "Are you staying over again? Not that I mind," I add. 

"No, silly! We're table shopping!" He exclaims. This should be interesting.

"Okay," I shrug. "See you tonight then."

"Wow, picking out a table together, what a milestone!" Ross jokes.

"Oh, shut up or I'll get on you about your love life," Matty says. "Oh, that's right. You don't have one, huh mate? I'd stuff it if I were you then."

The boys walk out of my office, still bantering among themselves. I smile and pull up my e-journal. See, it's moments like this one I want to write about.

_**E-Diary Entry 2 - February 6th** _

_The boys are so entertaining. Matty's on his soapbox about Gemma again, but I don't blame him. She wears me out and I've only bumped into her - literally bumped into - once. George stole a doughnut while Matty was on his rant, Adam and Ross stood there awkwardly, having a thumb war, then a staring contest. Seeing them sober makes me wonder why anyone would put them on alcohol. They argue about the silliest things, but it's always so funny. Oh, and not to mention the conversations they have about me. I'm sure they will know every detail of our sex life by the end of the day, including what song we played, what color underwear I had on, and the barcode number on the back of the condom box. But, I don't mind it much anymore. They guys and I are friends now too._

_You know, every time I miss Chicago, I just think about what life would be like without them. I know that this job is the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's just so fitting, the music and the writing, it's like my two passions rolled into a ball, called a job, and dropped right on my head. I love Matty, I love Manchester, I love life. I have to go now though. Table shopping awaits! Did I tell you Matty broke my table? Well, I guess that's a story for another time, then._

_xRose_

 


	9. Chapter 9

_**E-Diary Entry 3 - February 23** _

_So, things have been good. Matty and I went out for Valentine's day, he said it was the first time he's celebrated since middle school. We went out to this intimate little club called South and we drank and danced and then went back to his place. You've not lived until you've been with a guy like that. He's so sexy, but not just because of his body and his tattoos and his hair. He's so intelligent. We can be having a philosophical debate about Religion or Law or whatever, and he'll sweep me away with just how smart and sound he is. It often ends up with me kissing him in the middle of the sentence and the debate turning into sex. It's the little things too though, like the way he rubs my shoulders after work, and plays with the hem of my shorts while we're getting to sleep, and the way he plays with my hair before I open my eyes in the mornings and let him know I'm awake. He just takes my breath away in a new way every day. He just has to stop breaking my furniture. Since the table, he's broken the arm off the couch, a coffee table, and busted out the headboard of my bed (that's a fun story, but not for right now...). By the time it's said and done, I'm going to have an entire apartment furnished solely by Matthew Healy. Not many girls can say that! But, I guess not many girls can say they've slept with him either..._

_Anyway, I guess I better wrap this up soon, since I've got a meeting with the PRs. Work is good, except when Gemma is here. She kills the mood. Most of the time I can duck her, but on those unlucky occasions when I do run into her, it's not pleasant. Mostly filled with scowls and scoffs. But it's whatever. I've got Matty and she doesn't, so my life is automatically better and I could care less about what she thinks of me. I just hope she gets to treating Matty less like a minion and more like a co-worker._

_Until next time, blank space on a computer._

_xRose_

I close the window on my computer and turn the monitor on sleep mode as Matty walks into my office. He grins at me and grabs my coat off of the back of the chair.

"Ready?" he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I sigh in response. We exit the office and walk down to the conference room, laughing. Since I've been having headaches lately, I've been having to wear glasses, which I think are absurd. Matty, on the other hand, thinks they are adorable. As we reach the door, he jokes about getting a matching pair. We walk in together, chuckling between ourselves. I sit at the front of the table, closest to the blonde Public officer, and Matty sits beside me, throwing his feet on the mahogany-and-wood surface, just like they were the first day I met him. The woman looks at him, a tight smile across her face, obviously agitated.

"Matthew, haven't we talked about  _manners?_ " she says harshly. He hesitantly takes his feet off of the table, sighing.

"Sorry, Gina," he spits, looking down at his phone. The boys file in one by one, finally followed by Jamie and the Fred Flintstone that made an appearance on my second or third day. He looks the same, bright red nose, bloodshot eyes and all. I wonder how much drinking he actually does.

"Okay, everyone, let's get started. I certainly don't have any time to waste here," Gina said. "It's come to my attention that some rule breaking has been happening. I just want to review with everyone the strict policies we've set in place for  _your own good._ If you decide to withhold anything from me, drugs, dates, or anything of the like, just know I will find out. I have eyes and ears here." She says the last lines glaring solidly in Matty's and my direction. Matty looks up and then quietly looks down at his hands. "That's all I have today, I just wanted to check in. Now, I've got another meeting to be at, you're dismissed." She walks out of the room quickly and sharply, cutting the tension in the air with her vile personality.

We stand up to leave and hear a soft voice. "Matty, can I speak with you privately for a moment?" The large man says. I glance at Matty worriedly and turn to gather my things. "No, Rose, don't leave. I'd like to talk to you both." I set my things down and resume my previous position in the high-back office chair. After everyone else leaves, the man sits down at the head of the table and sighs. 

"Sorry about all this. I know this is hard. It tears me apart to watch her control you like this," his voice is comforting and not what I would expect from a man of his stature and size. "She wouldn't know if it weren't for Gemma. She hears things around here that I rather wish she wouldn't. She heard about you two and a bar bathroom and had to run and tell Gina. The drugs bit? She was referring to George and his weed, because she somehow found that out too. I'm just so sorry." He surprised me, not only because of his sweet disposition, but his soundness as well. I begin to think he's not an abuser of the bottle, but is worn from working with Gina for all those years. I can tell in his eyes he means no spite to us. I smile at him sweetly, and he responds with a look of sympathy.

"If I had it my way, I swear I'd change everything," he says. "I never feel like keeping people apart is the way to go about things. I'm a super sensitive guy, you know?" I sigh in amusement at his comment. "Anyway, I'll do anything I can for you, okay? Here's my number. Feel free to call anytime, and I mean it." He smiles at us one more time and walks out the door, shutting and locking it behind him. I look over at Matty.

"You okay?" I ask. He looks up at me, tears welling in his eyes, and nods, sending me another "It'll be okay soon enough," smile. I stand and motion for him to do the same. He wraps his arms around me and we stand there, breathing in each other. I hear the doorknob rattle and then Jamie's voice.

"Is everything okay, you two?" he asks through the door. I smile.

"Yeah, go ahead and come in Jamie."

He unlocks the door and enters the room, shutting the door lightly. I pull away from Matty to face him.

"Listen," he says, sighing. "I like you, Rose, and I think you're great for Matty. But, I think you guys should cool it for a while, yeah? At least until this blows over with Gina. No more going out, no more hanging out in her office, no staying over with each other. I know it's going to suck, but it's just what they boys need now."

My heart drops. 

"How long?" I ask quietly.

"A few weeks, maybe a month and a half. Just look forward to tour, and you can spend all your time together then, okay? I'm not trying to be mean. If we could make this work any other way, I would. But, it's for the band."

I nod at him to confirm I understand, tears streaming down my cheeks. I grab my things and walk out of the room, afraid to look behind me at Matty. People stare as I make my way back to the office in tears. When I finally close the door, I start sobbing and slide to the ground, sitting with my head in my knees. After a few minutes, I hear a knock at the door.

"Rose? Rose, it's Adam. Let me in, yeah?" I stand up and open the door for him. He walks in and closes the door behind him. I immediately start crying again and he takes me into his arms. Out of all the boys, we've become the closest friends, beside Matty of course. I sob into his white thermal for what seems like a lifetime, ruining it with mascara and lipstick. "Oh, Rose. Babe, I'm so sorry. I know, I know. It's only a while, okay?" I just nod and sob more. When I finally calm down, he offers to take me out for coffee. I decline, but he does end up giving me a ride back home. The car ride is mostly silent, with the radio on low and the heat on high. He carries my bag to my apartment, following me in.

"Adam, really, you can go," I say softly. "I'll be fine." He shakes his head at me.

"I have a strong gut feeling you're going to get plastered, and I don't want you doing anything stupid. So, you get plastered, and I'm going to sleep on the couch and keep an eye on you. Jamie asked me to anyway. He's worried," he says. I scoff.

"It's his fault," I say. "Why does he even care?"

"He didn't want to do this. It's just what Matty needs so he doesn't get in trouble."

"No, it's not what he needs!" I shout. "He needs me!" My shouts turn into sobs and I fall against the counter, bottle of Disarono in my hand. I take a big drink of it and scrunch my face as it burns down my throat. The pain of the alcohol starts to mask the ache in my heart and I take another long swig. Adam walks over and jerks the bottle out of my hand. "I wasn't done with that!" I yell.

"Maybe you should take it in cupfulls, yeah? That way you don't drink all your good booze at once." 

That's about all I remember, until I wake up in bed the next morning, headache pounding in my ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I'm going to catch this fic up to present day, but it isn't today...haha. So do I have any regular readers? Link me what you've written so I can read it! I'd love to see what you guys are writing as well. :)  
> xxKay


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone actually do these for every individual chapter? Should I? I'm only slightly clueless.

I roll over and look at the clock. Ten to seven, it says. I rub my eyes and roll out of bed, feeling terribly ill. I can't remember much of what happened last night, which means I was probably drunk. Then, all at once, the previous day's events hit me. I grab a towel from the chest and retreat to the bathroom to shower. My eyes are welling up with tears as I step turn on the hot water. As I start to cry, I suddenly feel extremely nauseous and have to bend over and vomit. Adam, who I guess stayed the night, walks into the bathroom.

"You okay?" he asks. "I didn't know you were up until I heard you retching." I continue to throw up into the bottom of the tub, thankful I still had my clothes on and hadn't taken them off before he entered the room. He walks over to me, pathetic, hunched over the bathtub, vomiting, in my pajamas, and holds my hair out of my face. He grabs a ponytail holder and snaps it tightly around my mess of dark-blonde hair. As soon as I stop heaving, I thank him. "No problem," he replies sincerely. "If you're quite done there, maybe you should get in the shower and I'll go make you some toast." I nod, still hanging over the side of the tub, and he walks out of the room and shuts the door. I undress, watch the last of the contents of my stomach escape down the drain and step into the shower. The hot water is soothing on my skin. I let some pool in my hands and throw it over my face, trying to rid the images of the last 24 hours out of my mind. Well, what I can remember, at least. When I get out, I slip on the most comfortable work clothes I have, a pair of stretchy black slacks and a loose-fitting button up. My reflection tells me I look terrible, but I don't do anything about it, because I have no one to impress. 

The day passes on slowly, my head hammering at me constantly, begging for sleep and painkillers, and me unable to provide. A week goes by, then two, but nothing gets easier. I'd taken to staying at Adam's place at night so I wouldn't have to risk seeing Matty in Manchester. We weren't doing anything  _like that_ , I just stayed there with him to have someone watch me so I didn't do anything stupid. On day 23 without Matty, I decide I need a break from just working and sleeping, so I invite Ross and Adam out to the bar in Manchester. Adam drives me back to my apartment so I can put on a suitable dress and put some clothes in the washer. I decide to wear the dress I wore on my first night, the night with Matty, to the bar I went to on my first night. Adam won't know, because he wasn't there, so he has nothing to scold me about. Lately he's been doing that, scolding me. He tells me I'm being reckless and self-mutilating. I tell him he's a prude, but I know he's right and means well. 

Anyway, we arrive at the bar, and I buy us all shots of vodka and lime. After a few rounds, I'm pretty buzzed, and I start dancing with some guy who was placed at the bar beside me. Adam, once again, tells me how reckless I'm being, and I, once again, tell him to live a little. I'm lost in this world of self-loathing and loneliness, only I'm blissfully unaware, drunk and too close to someone I don't know.

Until I see him across the bar.

_Matty._

His eyes are sallow and dark, his hair a mess, as always. His shirt halfway unbuttoned, a glass in his hand. He's sitting in the corner, and I can't help but become embarrassed at the fact that I'm dancing up close with some guy, trying to forget I'm missing him, and he's there, alone, like I should be. I see hurt and anger in his eyes, telling me that he saw me dancing with this stranger. I automatically step away from the guy I've been dancing with and go back to the bar. 

"Adam," I say. "Adam, he's here." I look at him in distress. 

"Rose, you can't," he says softly in my ear. Ross grabs my arm, and as hard as I try, I can't shake his grasp. 

"Adam,  _please._ He looks terrible. He's  _alone._ Please." He shakes his head at me as I start to cry. 

"If he sees you, he'll come apart."

"That's the thing, Adam, he saw me dancing with that loser! He's hurt. I'm so stupid! I have to apologize, just let me apologize." 

"Rose, I can't. I think it's time we get out of here, yeah?" he hints at Ross, and they grab my arms and try to lead me out of the bar. I try to fight them, kicking and sobbing.

"No! No, please, Adam, please. Please. Please. Ross, let me down!" I yell as he hoists me up, his arms under my thighs and my stomach bent over his shoulder. I hit him in the back and scream at Matty. "Matty, Matty, please! Matty, I'm sorry! Matty!" By now, the entire bar is watching the scene unfold, including Matty. The boys haul me out of the bar and I glance once more at Matty in the corner, tears streaming down his face, wringing his hand through his hair, trying to avoid eye contact. I sob in pain, and then decide I can stop yelling, and cry quietly as Ross puts me in the back of the car and we ride back to my apartment. They drop me off at the door after I tell them I'd rather stay alone tonight. I unlock the door and sigh quietly as I shut it behind me. My ponytail has long fallen, so I pull the elastic out of my hair and let my waves hit the back of my neck. I kick my shoes off and walk to the kitchen to pour myself some Amaretto. It reminds me of Matty, so it's mostly what I've been drinking these last 17, now 18 since it's past midnight, days. I hear a knock at the door, thinking it could only be one of the boys come back to watch me. I open it, sighing.

"Adam, I told you, I'm fine-"

It was  _Matty._

"M-M-Matty?" I stutter out in disbelief. He walks into my apartment. He's not even half as drunk as I am, making me look like a fool. 

"I saw you, you know? Rubbing up on that guy at the bar, getting  _cozy_ with him. You know how that feels? It fucking hurts like hell, Rose."

I stand at the threshold, door still wide open, mouth agape. 

"Matty, you're here." 

"Yes, I'm here, okay? I'm tired of doing this. I've been trying to hold out, yeah, it's not working for me. Especially seeing you with that  _animal,_ " he spits in anger. 

"Matty, I'm so sorry. I was trying to forget about this. I was trying to pretend I didn't miss you, I didn't know you would be there. I'm so sorry." 

"Sorry?" he laughs. "Sorry?!? You basically had fully-clothed sex with that guy, and you're  _SORRY?_ Oh my God, Rose. I think I deserve a little more than fucking sorry." He is yelling now, holding on to the door with one hand, the other on the wall, and me pinned in between. I am so close to him I can feel his breath as he screams at me. He raises his hand like he's going to hit me, but grabs my face instead and smashes his mouth into mine.

"You belong to me. You better fucking remember that," he says and resumes kissing. With his left hand, he slams the door shut and proceeds to pick me up and carry me to the bedroom in angry haste. He throws me down on the bed and strips his shirt off, not even bothering to unbutton it completely. He climbs on the bed on top of me, still in his boots and jeans, and pulls my dress over my head. I try to push him up off of me. 

"Matty," I mumble out as he kisses my neck. "Matty, we shouldn't." 

"Shut up," he says, pressing his lips back to mine. "You're mine," his voice thundered in my ear. I submitted to him, no matter how much my brain told me not to, because my heart screamed for him. We made love for hours that night, Matty asserting very clearly that I was his. When the sun finally came up, and it was Saturday morning, I started to drift off to sleep. Matty was playing with the elastic of the boxers I was wearing. 

"We're going to be in so much trouble," I whisper to Matty.

"Do you think I care?" He asks. 

I shake my head, smiling. I slowly fall asleep, only to be awakened a few hours later by an absence of Matty. I stand up, still clad in only his plaid boxer shorts and my Prince concert t-shirt. I walk into the bathroom to find a note from him on the mirror.

_Went out for the morning. Be back this afternoon. Love always, Matty. xx_

I relieve myself and wash my hands smiling at the note. Before I throw away the paper towel I used to dry my hands, I stop. Could it be? I pick up the tiny bag off the floor and pop it open. I dip my pinky in the substance coating the bottom of the bag and rub it on the inside of my lip. Just what I was afraid of: My lip goes numb.

Is Matty really doing this? Is he really doing cocaine? I sigh and sink to the floor, running my hands through my hair.


	11. Chapter 11

I sit on the floor, crying for what seems like centuries. (In reality, it was only like 45 minutes, but I'm a woman.) I hear Matty come through the front door and yell for me.

"Hey, you up? I brought back some food if you-" He stops at the  bathroom door and stares. "Rose?" He says, softly. I look up at him, tears streaking my face.

"You, This?" I ask, gesturing to the bag laying inches from me. He nods. "Last night? You were on this?" Matty nods again, and he looks hurt. "Now?" Another nod. "Was it because of me?"

"Rose, no. It wasn't because of you," He replies, and I get off of the floor and go to him. He wraps me in his arms.

"Then why?" I sob into his a-little-too-big shirt. 

"It was too hard without you," he says. I look up at him and see a look of honest, quiet depression on his face. Tears are welling in the inner corners of his eyes and it breaks my heart. I wrap my arms tighter around his waist and bury my face deeper in his chest. 

"What do I do?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"I don't know," he replies. " What do I do? God, I fucked up." I look up at him.

"Listen, no you didn't. Babe, I know. You saw how I was last night. I'm not any better than you are, we're just handling it in different ways. Let me help you," I say. 

"No, no. I just need to work it out myself," he says to me. "Just let me figure it out. It's only a few more weeks, yeah? I'll figure it out," he steps back and brushes my hair back. "Why don't you get out of here for the day, yeah? Go out. I'll stay here out of trouble. Promise. Here," he says, throwing his keys at me. "Take the car. Go have fun. Forget about me and my fucked up life and this fucked up situation. Put on your clothes and leave, okay?" I nod my head, my lip still quivering from the sob I'm stifling. I slowly walk away from him and into the bedroom. I put my clothes on methodically, pull my hair up, and walk out the door, grabbing only my purse on the way out. Hitting the button on the electronic key, I hear the car honk in the parking garage. I sit in the car shivering, air so cold I can feel my breath. I cry again. I scream. I hit the steering wheel until I am tired of it.

When I finally turn the car on, it's been an hour. I drive down the busy streets of Manchester, not knowing where I'm going. I finally pull over, get out, lock the car, and start walking. It's about one in the afternoon by this time, so I stop in a pub for lunch. The bartender brings me exactly what I ask for: a beer and a BLT. I chug the beer in one setting, and pick at the BLT until I decide I shouldn't have ordered it in the first place, because I'm not really hungry. I put my five down on the table and walk to the bathroom to rinse my face. Splashing water on my face only makes reality worse, because now, not only am I freezing cold, I'm soaking wet. I sink down to the floor, sobbing for what seems like the millionth time today. The grief turns to anger and I stand up and start hitting the wall. My knuckles connect with the dirty white concrete over and over until they are bleeding and blue. I realize what I've done and quickly pace out of the restaurant. Not knowing what to do, but knowing I can't call Matty, I pick up the phone and dial George.

"Hello?" He says after three rings.

"Hey, George? It's Rose." 

"I know that. I have caller ID, you know?"

"Yeah. Listen, I've gotten myself into a bit of a spot and I need some help... Can I come by?" 

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I'll be there in fifteen." I hung up and started driving, blood making it's way down my hand. I don't want to ruin Matty's car, so I take off my scarf and wrap it around my hand. It takes me a little less than fifteen minutes because I got lucky and hit nothing but green lights, but by the time I arrive, my hand has gone from numb to throbbing to an intense, stabbing pain. I climb the stairs to Matty and George's third floor flat and knock on the door with my intact hand. George answers, clad only in sweatpants, and looks down at my hand.

"Shit," he says.

"I think it's broken," I reply. I walk into the flat and open the freezer. "Do you have any ice?" I ask while digging around through booze and frozen peas. He picks up the bucket on the counter, takes it to the sink, and fashions me an ice pack. I rinse my hand off and dry it, then apply the ice. After a while, he wants to look at it. 

"I think you need to go to the hospital," he says. "At least Urgent Care." I shook my head.

"No, because then this will be a big deal, and it's not a big deal. I don't want to make it a big deal. I want this to blow over and be okay..." I start choking up and George pulls me into a hug. 

"I'm going to get the keys off the counter and take you to the hospital, okay?" he softly demands. I finally cave and let him take me. We ride to the hospital in silence, the only sound coming from the radio, which was turned down and barely audible. I try to dam the tears I feel coming on, and every once in a while, I miss one and it slides down my cheek. 

My hand is broken. In three places. The doctor says it's a wonder I didn't bust the wall open as hard as I had to have hit it. I don't listen to most of what he's saying, but George does, so he takes down all my instructions and gets all of my prescriptions and papers on the way out. We drive to the pharmacy and fill my medicine, then we go back to his apartment. I take a nap on the couch for a while while George watches TV. When I wake up, it's almost 5 in the afternoon. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," George laughs. "How you feel?"

"Sore," I reply. 

"So, you wanna tell me why you broke your hand now?" he asks.

"Matty."

"Ah. Well that really narrows it down," he says sarcastically.

"I found an empty bag of coke in the bathroom trash this morning."

"In your trash?" he asks. Oh shit. I forgot we aren't supposed to be seeing each other. 

"Yeah, we kind of slipped up on that deal last night..."

"Rose," George sighs. "You know what Jamie said..." 

"I know what he said, but that doesn't mean I agree, George. I didn't do it. He showed up at my doorstep. He invited himself in."

"Yeah, to your apartment, not your pants."

"Oh, no, that too. You weren't there." 

"Ugh, don't do this to yourself..."

"I didn't George, you aren't listening! Ughh! I just need to relax and get this shit off my mind for a minute." I take my coat and go up to the roof. George follows behind me. I turn and face him. "I know you have weed. Get me some," I say, not knowing what in the hell I'm doing but doing it anyway.

"Have you even smoked before?" He asks.

"Yeah, in college." He nods and hands me what I'm asking for.

I inhale and have to readjust to the taste and feeling of the joint, but soon I remember why I smoked so much in college. I look at the smoke in my hand and nod.

"You know, it's my birthday," I say.

"Happy birthday," George replies. 

"Not really," I say.


	12. Chapter 12

I stay the night at George and Matty's, afraid to go back to my own apartment out of fear for seeing Matty high again. I sleep on the couch although I so want to sleep in Matty's bed, breathe in his scent, remember when things were okay. George gets up around 4 and shakes me awake to tell me he'll be at my apartment. Something came up with Matty. Before I have time to process this, he is out the door and I am back asleep. I wake again around seven to my hand throbbing in pain. I get up and walk to the counter to take my medicine. As I'm pouring the two pills into my hand, I suddenly remember George isn't here, and the night before rushes back into my memory painfully. I decide I better make sure they are okay, so I take a shower and slip into my jeans. My shirt is covered in blood from yesterday's events, so I grab one out of Matty's clean laundry. Every time I move my hand, I wince in pain. After taking two painkillers, I'm not even remotely okay to drive, so I walk to my apartment. I hear yelling outside the door as I unlock it. 

"Matty, fucking listen to me! Don't go fucking this up like you always do you bloke!" 

"George, I'm trying! Don't you understand that? I'm so fucking tired of screwing everything up and I find one good thing and I was doing so good and then fucking management has to ruin it all. Don't you think I want this? Don't you think I need her? I do George, God, I do. That's how this fucking mess started, because I needed her too much. And now I'm coming down and she's not here and...."   
I unlock the door and push it open, walking into my apartment. George and Matty are standing there, a foot apart, tears streaming down Matty's face, his hair disheveled, a right mess. I look at him, my eyes wide and sad, and I can feel the tears welling up. 

"Come here," he says quietly, extending his arms. "Come here." I dropped my bag and walked to him. He wraps his thin, muscular arms around me and cries. I do too. George just stands there, in awe of what is happening. Matty pulls away from me and lifts my hand up gently. I wince. 

"What happened?" he asks softly. 

"It's broken," I whisper. "It's not a big deal, I've broken bones before." 

"Oh, Rose," He sighs and wraps me back up. "I'm sorry. I'm coming down, you know? I'm going to stop. For you." 

I look at him and feel a tear race down my cheek. "Is it that easy Matty? I didn't think it was easy."

"It's not," he sighs. "But it's worth it." I smile and nuzzle deeper into his sweatshirt. He sets his chin on the crown of my head. 

"Guys, you know you can't do this," George sighs, exasperated with the situation. 

"George, can we just please have a minute? I have no idea when I'll get this again," I choke out. He runs his hands through his hair and paces the floor. 

"Fine," he says. "Fine about it. But if management finds out you're seeing each other again, I'm not getting into it," he says and walks out the door. Matty smiles down and me and puts a hand on my jawline.

"Hi," he says, cheesing like a kid. 

"Hi," I reply, and he kisses me. He grabs me by the waist and picks me up, then sets me down on the counter. "Matty, if you break my counter that's just another thing you have to replace," I say jokingly.

"I'd break all the furniture in this complex if it meant I got to be with you for the rest of my life, Rose. I really messed up," he says. "I'm sorry about the drugs. I'm really coming down. I took a Vicodin to help and I'll be off by tomorrow. I flushed it all too. Promise." 

I smile at my feet, kicking them out like a kid. 

"You know, you're so cute," he says. "Five whole feet of pure cute." I look up at him and he kisses me again. 

"I missed that," I say. He smiles.

"Me too," he replies and does it again. I wrap my arms around his neck, forgetting about the bulky cast surrounding my right hand. It braises his skin and he makes a funny face. 

"I'm sorry!" I gasp. He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. 

"'S fine Rose. I don't mind getting a little scratched up for you. What did you even do anyway?" 

"I hit a wall at a bar... repeatedly." His eyes grew wide. "Yeah, I'm a little bit of an idiot. Graduated from Northwestern and I'm not even smart enough to keep my bones intact." 

He picks up my heavy hand and turns it over. "It's a good thing you're left handed, huh?" he says.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry Rose. I had no right to come here the other night. I just didn't know what else to do." 

"It's not a big deal Matty." 

"You broke your fucking hand over it." 

"Yeah, but you're here now, right? Everything happens for a reason."

"Oh don't get religious on me," he jokes. 

"God I love you," I giggle.

"Oh, I love you too, my little boxer." 

========

Since I decided to break my hand yesterday, Matty decides he is taking care of me all day. We watch a film and play Monopoly for a while, but the painkillers make us both sleepy. We end up tangled up on the couch with a blanket somewhere in the mix; my knees over his, his arms over mine. We are quite the mess. I wake up somewhere around 3 and shake him awake. 

"Matty, babe. You gotta get up... I need to eat and take some more medicine." he grumbles and obliges. For lunch, or early dinner, whatever, he makes up some grilled cheeses with pickles. I laugh at him; it's such a stupid American food and he still knows exactly how I like it. We eat, and I take my medicine, and then he washes dishes. I brush the cheese out of my teeth and he comes to the bathroom to keep me company. When I'm done, he props me up on the sink. 

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I reply, grinning like an idiot. He kisses me, his hands playing with the hem of the shirt I'm wearing. I do the same to his sweatshirt, sending a cold chill down his back. I giggle at his sudden reaction. 

"Can we go to bed?" he asks. I laugh.

"Yeah. But carry me," I demand. he scoops me up under the knees and I hang on to his neck. He lays me down on my unmade bed and I know he slept here last night. I don't mind though; Matty sleeping in my bed always leaves a little of him here, like he's never gone even when he is. I missed his pillow all mashed up on his side and the way he never made the bed. "Look how you left my bed," I scoff. "And you say I'm the messy one, Matthew." He shakes his head at me. 

"Okay, I don't make the bed, but you leave the dishes in the sink, so I think yours is worse," he says.

"Touche. Now please, let's lay down. I'm sleepy," I yawned. "The medicine makes me so tired." 

"I know babe. I know," He says, rubbing my back gently. The last thing I remember before falling back into sleep was him kissing my cheek.

"Goodnight princess," He whispered, pulling me into his arms. 

I think I smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Sorry about the hiatus. College orientation and high school finals and whatnot. (ALSO I HAVE BEEN HARDCORE FANGIRLING OVER THE #NOCONTROLPROJECT)

The weekend was great, but then it ended. I wake up on Monday morning, my hand still throbbing, Matty still beside me, and roll out of bed. I don't bother to get him up just yet, because I know he can use the extra half-hour of sleep. I somehow manage to shower but have trouble finding a sweater that fits over my hand. As I rummaging through my drawers, cussing myself for not buying anything with bell sleeves, I hear Matty stirring in bed. 

"Mmmmm, good morning," he says, stretching. 

"Hey," I reply, exasperated. 

"What's wrong?" He asks, sitting up.

"I can't find anything that will fit over this damn thing! I'm about ready to go to work in a pullover and a pair of blue jeans because this is ridiculous!" Matty pulls himself out of bed and comes to help me. After a few minutes of searching, he throws something at me. 

"Here," he says. "I remembered you had this, but I didn't know where it was.  Thankfully, I found it or I don't think you'd be going to work properly clad, love," he jokes. I hold up the garment, seeing that, after all, there is something stretchy enough to fit over my Hellboy arm. It's a white, cable-knit sweater dress, appropriate for the still-chilly season, and I am impressed with Matty's fashion sense. I happily take the dress out of his hands and slip it over my head.

"You know we're going to have to go back to  not seeing each other, yeah?" I sigh. "George will probably rat us out to Jamie and that won't be good. But, it's only another two weeks until we leave for tour, so can we hold out?" 

Matty sighs. "I don't want to start sneaking around like we're in high school and our parents don't like each other, but we only have two options here, and that's one of them. I don't want to be without you either, and that's the other." I smile sadly at him.

"This job is really important to me, so I don't want to lose it, but I don't want to lose you either. Can we do weekends?" I say, and then realize what I just said. "I feel like I'm in a custody battle between my job and my love life," I say and fall backwards onto the bed. He sits down beside me on the unmade sheets. 

"Why don't we just go in and talk to Jamie about it today? He's probably going to find out anyway. Then I can take the blame for it, because it really is my fault, and he can't fire me. I'm the lead singer." I roll my eyes.

"That's preposterous. I wouldn't let you do that Matty." He laughs at me. "What?" I ask.

"Preposterous," he says, in an American accent. I smile at him. 

"Shut up. I can't help that I have an extensive vocabulary," I say.

"I can't help that I love you," he replies.

================================

We come to a decision to tell Jamie, and he's mad. We sit in his office as Matty tells him about the drugs, the sex, and how he stayed at my apartment the entire weekend. I have to explain my broken hand and how I'll be needing surgery, about how I was a total idiot. I think my broken bone really softened him up about the whole thing, and he quit yelling and just starts telling us how disappointed he is that we broke the rules, like a father. 

"I just don't know what to do about it," He finally ends, throwing his hands up. "I've tried, and obviously failed, to keep you two away from each other. I don't mean to sound like an authoritarian parent here, but damn. It's your jobs riding here, that's serious, guys." 

I shake my head to acknowledge the last sentence. "I know, and he does to," I respond, intertwining my fingers with Matty's. "But this is ridiculous. Why should we lose our jobs over a relationship? You told me on my first day that I had to learn everything about these boys. Their favorite color, milkshake, illicit drug and sex position, to quote you. And I did, and I liked what I learned. Is that so terrible? I could see you taking away my job if I was causing a legitimate problem. But I'm not. I get along with all the boys. For the most part, we leave our relationship out of the office, and I can work harder to make sure that happens. I am nice to everyone I work with, I turn in articles in a timely manner, I've started working on this book, and I've only taken one day off in the three months I've worked here. Hell, I'm here right now, and I broke my hand in three places only two days ago. Don't tell me I'm not a near-perfect employee. I'm not dumb, and I do my job the right way, Jamie. It's not like I just sit around in my office, slutting it up with any guy that walks in. I've been with Matty for a matter of continuous months, and I've not hurt him or caused problems internally for the band. So, please,  _please_ , can we just have this? This one thing. That's all I'm asking. I don't want a raise or two weeks paid vacation, I just want to be able to date who I want, and who I want is Matty! Is that so much? All I'm asking, is let me be with him, let us be together, in peace. Don't tell the PR about it. Just let it be, yeah?" Matty looks over and shoots me a timid smile, rubbing the side of my hand with his thumb. 

Jamie smiles. "You have to be the most annoying woman on the face of the planet," he says. "But in a way that's good. You are a relentless journalist. You are a pain in the ass about everything and you won't give up until you get your way, which, honestly, is the right way most of the time. So, yeah. I can say yes to that. Because I know you wouldn't be bugging the shit out of me if it didn't matter to you. And I'm just happy Matty's found someone who isn't just riding off of him. But, it has to stay quiet. You can't hold hands around, can't kiss outside your  _closed_ office door. No exceptions, okay? This is one huge exception I thought I'd never make, and I don't need a minuscule one getting us all in the craphouse. Now, go," he says, motioning towards the door with a nod. "Don't make me regret this guys."

"You won't," I reply. "I promise." Matty and I walk out of his office and down the stairs to mine. I shut and lock the door behind me and plant a kiss firmly on his mouth. He smiles underneath my kiss. 

"We did it," he says. "I didn't think I could get him to budge. But you totally caved him, Rose, you did it. Why aren't you our publicist?" he asks.

"That position wasn't available," I respond, laughing. He laughs with me for a moment before his face falls a little.

"You didn't tell me about surgery. Is that going to put you out of Glastonbury?" 

"No," I answer. "I'm having it on Friday and they say I'm good to travel after the anesthetic is out of my system, so I'll be good to go by Monday, a whole five days before we have to leave. I'll probably come to work that day. I'll just have to take off half of Friday. No big deal. Surgery is at 4 back in Manchester, so I need to be out of here around noon." He grabs my good hand.

"Let me be there?" He half demands, half asks. I nod and he pulls me into a hug. "We're going to America together soon, you know? You can show me around Chicago." 

"I will. And this time, we can eat at all the places I know and get drunk on vodka and lime in all the bars I used to work at and it'll be just like my first night in Manchester." 

"I think I'd like that," he says. 

"I think you would too."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey. It's been a looong time. Sorry guys. I've had a lot going on with school and family deaths and such... I'm glad to be back in a position where I can - and need to - write again... Sorry if you totally hate me for being gone so long... OH... Special guest in this chapter too ;)...  
> xxKay

_**E-Diary Entry 4 - March 29**_

 

 

_Surgery came and went. They are keeping me overnight just to monitor the pins in my wrist and make sure they don't shift. I'm still a little blurry from the anesthetic, but I should be out of here in twelve hours or so. Matty has been here all day, fretting over me even though I'm fine. I'm just casted up is all, and he's treating me like I've just given birth or something. He's so sweet though. I can't get enough of it. It's flattering how he hovers in here. He left once to go to the cafeteria and get a drink, but he hasn't left the room beside that and a bathroom break. I love him. I love that he loves me. I'm going to go though, now. He's decided to try to nudge me off my hospital bed, and I don't need any more broken bones, so I need to nudge him back._

 

_xxRose_   


 

"Matty! Stop shoving me off the bed you ignorant... stub!" I giggle.  "Can you please not break any more of my stuff, including my bones?" 

 

"I'll stop only if you can think of a better name to call me," he chuckles. "Stub... Seriously Rose?  I know you can do better than that."  

 

"Okay... Noodle!" 

 

He nudges me again. "Nope. Not even one percent better."

 

"Uhmm... Eel. You're a slimy eel."

 

Matty sighs, "Good enough." He scoots over to give me room and I wiggle back into a comfortable position. I laugh at him, still feeling woozy from the anesthetic the doctor put me under with. "Damn, woman. Will you ever stop laughing?" 

 

I shrug my shoulders as the last few giggles come out. Matty lays back on the bed and I follow suit, putting my head on his shoulder. "Thanks for being here," I say.

 

"Thanks for letting me come. I wouldn't want you alone after a surgery." 

 

"I'm a tough ol' American gal, Matty. I'd be fine," I say. 

 

"Tough ol' American gal, are ya?" He says, mocking my accent. I stick my tongue out at him and cross my arms. "C'mon, you know I love it." 

 

"I do, but Mattyy, why do you have to be so mean about it?" I whine. He just laughs in response. "I'm tired now," I say. "Let's go to sleep." 

 

"Okay sugar," he replies. "I love you." He kisses my forehead and pulls me in closer to his chest. 

 

 

 

=================================================

 

I wake up around 1:30 to find Matty across the room in a chair, scrolling through his phone. I'm fully coherent now, so I take the straw paper from my dinner and toss it at him to get his attention. 

"Ahh! Damn, I didn't even know you were up. Scared the shit out of me. I thought that was a bug or something," he exclaims. "What do you need?"

"I'm lonely all the way over here," I say. "Come back."  He walks over to the side of the hospital bed and looks down at me.

"Rose, babe, I can't fit in the bed. It's not big enough." 

"Lay on top of me then," I smirk. He grins his Matty grin and shakes his head. 

"Whatever you say." He climbs on top of me and plants a kiss on my lips. Matty goes to pull away, but I put my hands on his face and bring it back to me. We continue to kiss for a while until we both feel a noticeable tightening in Matty's jeans. He pulls off of me, looks down, and bursts into uncontrollable laughter. "We better stop before I rip my jeans," he says. 

"We don't have to," I respond. "There's a privacy curtain right there, go pull it."  He smiles at me devilishly. Matty pulls the curtain, pulls his belt off, and drops his jeans.

=================================================

I get out of the hospital the next afternoon and we go back to the apartment. I knew we were going home, but I didn't expect to stumble into a party in my living room. All the guys, Jamie, and I guess some of Matty's friends (who I have never seen in my life?) are crammed in my tiny, three-room apartment. 

"Matty?" I question, turning to him. "Did you do all this?" He smiled back at me.

"Why do you think I was on my phone all night last night? Watching porn?" He asks. I grin and give him a huge hug, forgetting I'm cast up. My clunky Hellboy arm bangs him in the head and he grunts. "Ow, Rose. You've got to be more careful with that monster!" 

"Sorry!" I squeak. "I'm just so excited! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I kiss him on the cheek and grab his hand. "Introduce me to all these strangers you invited into my apartment!" 

Matty drags me around the room for a bit, introducing me to this person and that person. We get about halfway around the party and I gasp at who he's dragging me to next. 

"Matty, wha-" 

"I'm assuming I don't have to introduce you to him, right love?" I shake my head, mouth open a little bit in awe. "Harry, Rose. Rose, Harry. But you knew that." 

_HARRY STYLES IS IN MY LIVING ROOM._

Whoa.

"Hi, there, love," Harry says in his  _Harry_ voice... I just don't even know how to describe it. 

"Hello!" I chirp sheepishly, and shake his hand. "I'm such a fan, but I'm sure you get that all the time." I laugh nervously.

"Nah, it's really great to meet you, the woman who has tamed Matthew Healy!  You're a legend," he exclaims.

I laugh again.  "I wouldn't say  _tamed._  More like, forcefully domesticated." They both giggle at the sentiment. 

"Anyway, we'll probably make our way around again, mate," Matty says to him.  "But we have a lot of people to get through in a short amount of time. By the way, where's your  _looooover_?" Matty coos.  

"Ah, he had to hit the loo.  He'll be back around soon enough, maybe then you can introduce Rose to 'im," Harry replies.  

We leave Harry -  _Harry Styles_ \- in the living room and head into the kitchen so Matty can pick up a scotch and I can have an apple juice, since I'm not supposed to drink for a while after the anesthetic.  

"Matty!  How did you convince Harry Styles to come to this party?  No one in 'music world' knows who I am! And then there's just  _Harry Styles_ in my living room??"

He caws at me.  "We know each other, Rose.  He was so curious about you - 'the girl who tamed the untame-able' - that he had to come."

"Who is he even here with?" I ask, very curious about his sexuality, a subject I've been arguing since before I graduated from college. 

"Louis, of course!  What are you, daft?" 

"I KNEW IT! MATTHEW I KNEW IT." Ha!  I had been dreaming of the day when I knew Larry Stylinson was real! I just didn't realize I'd find out during a party in my apartment, when both parties were in attendance.

Matty cracks up. "Okay, love, don't get so loud about it.  You'll scare them off."  

After making several rounds with Matty's hand glued to my hip, the party finally starts to die.  We have a few stragglers - just the boys - and they end up crashing in various places around the living room, too drunk to make their way home.  We crawl into bed around midnight, both exhausted from a night on the hospital bed and an afternoon entertaining guests.

"Thank you, Matty. I really appreciate you being with me through the surgery and all.  If I were in America, I would have been by myself.  I really appreciate the party.  I've never even had a party thrown for me.  Thank you.  I love you," I gush.

"You've never had a party thrown for you?" He asks softly.

"No, not before this.  It's okay though.  If I had to wait 23 years for a party, but I got to have a party with you, I'm okay with it."

"I'm sorry, Rose." 

"Don't be sorry! Say 'you're welcome,' damn it! I don't want you feeling fucking sorry for me," I say, my voice raising a little.  I meant it.

"Okay," he whispers into my hair, kissing my head. "I can give you that." 

"Thank you," I say. "Thank you. That's all I've wanted my entire life, is for people not to feel fucking sorry for me." I can feel the heat of oncoming tears behind my eyes, and I try to push them back. "I just want to be proud of something - myself - and I want people to see me as successful in one way or another, and not to feel sorry for me.  I came from what I came from, but I'm not to be pitied.  I worked fucking hard to be here, in the UK, laying next to a fucking rockstar, with an awesome job. I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. So don't you ever feel fucking sorry for me again, Matthew," I spew.

"C'mon Rose," he says. "I didn't mean it like that.  I-I-You're strong.  You're stronger than I am.  When shit gets too heavy for me, I turn to what I know, I do a line. You fucking stick it out.  You run your hand through a cement wall.  You fucking  _feel_. I'm afraid of that.  You? You're not scared of anything.  You're so strong, Rose.  I didn't mean to imply that I pitied you." 

I wipe the burning tears from the corners of my eyes and stretch up to kiss his forehead. "Thank you," I whisper. It's all I can muster.


End file.
